Archive of Our Own

“Well, what the fuck are we going to do?” 

Louis’ voice came out far harsher than he’d intended, but he couldn’t help it. He was frustrated beyond belief. How could his tour photographer just up and quit like that with only a week to go till the start of the UK and European leg? Utter madness.

“I don’t know what to tell you, Lou. We can’t contact him. He’s gone totally off the grid,” Michael said, fiddling nervously with a guitar pick.

Louis rolled his eyes. He knew Zayn had always been a bit more … flighty than Louis would have liked, but he had never seen this coming. He ran his hand over his face and through his already messy hair. It was getting long again - he’d need to set up a cut this week. 

“We’ll figure it out, Louis, don’t you worry,” Niall said, clapping Louis on the shoulder. Louis shot a grateful half smile up at his tour manager. Niall was forever an optimist, always looking for solutions with a smile on his face, but Louis had never quite managed to get to that level of surety and calm, even though he’d been in the industry for nearly four years. 

“I just … I was counting on him. I really did like his style, and it took us months to book him for the first tour. How are we supposed to find someone just as good in the next few days, let alone see trial shots?”

“Whoever we find, Lou, they’ll do. We won’t leave you hanging,” Niall assured him, and with that, their meeting was adjourned. 

Louis bit down hard on the inside of his cheek, fending off his headache by sheer force of will. It had been a week straight of these meetings - making sure all the venues were confirmed, the bus company had their buses the way they wanted, and that as many tickets as possible were sold. There had been lighting tests and full concert setlist rehearsals and if Louis was being honest, he was absolutely exhausted. And now his photographer, Zayn Malik, had totally flaked. Louis needed a break. 

He made his way to the lift and listened to the silence as it took him down to the back car park. He was supposed to go to Oli’s for a lads night before tour, but he was three seconds away from canceling and just going to bed. But neither of them would have a chance to truly do this over the next couple weeks - and maybe beer and pizza and shit video games would dull his frustration. 

He climbed into his car and leaned back into the leather seat, letting his eyes close momentarily before making the busy drive through London to Oli’s flat. It took much longer than necessary, considering the time of day, but when he pulled up and was headed up the stairs to the third floor where his best friend’s flat was nestled at the back of the building, he could feel himself relaxing ever so slightly. Tonight, he didn’t need to worry about anything tour related. He could let it go just this once. 

Oli welcomed him in with his usual greeting and a cold beer.

“Cheers, mate,” Louis said gratefully, toeing off his shoes by the door and downing half the beer in one gulp. 

“Rough day for the big bad pop star?” Oli teased, but the easy grin slipped off his face as he saw Louis’ expression. “What happened?”

Louis flopped down on Oli’s sofa, taking another swig of his beer. “Photographer flaked on us.”

“A week before tour? What the actual fuck?”

Louis gestured wildly in agreement. “Exactly! He was with us all last week as we were planning and now he’s just … gone.”

Oli leaned back against the arm of the sofa, watching Louis with a concerned look in his eye that Louis hated. “What are you gonna do?”

“Gotta find a new one, I guess. You wouldn’t want to give it a go, would you?” Louis asked with a laugh, and Oli cackled. 

“Please, you’re having a laugh. You’d be better off having a child do it, even if I would be the more entertaining choice.”

“Worth a shot,” Louis mumbled, leaning forward to grab a slice of pizza. “So … tell me about her.”

Oli, who had been swigging his own beer, choked. “W-what?”

Louis grinned. “Don’t play dumb. Your flat has always been just shy of a pigsty. You never have the good beer. There’s a fucking yellow and white polka dot raincoat hanging by the door. Either you have been replaced by a clean, tasteful, colorful clone, or you have a girl.”

Oli’s cheeks were bright red and the color was spreading down his neck, which he was now rubbing self consciously. “Well, I … I umm …” His next words were so inaudible, Louis actually sat up. 

“Gotta speak up, love, what was that?” Louis taunted, and Oli’s eyes met his, the vulnerability palpable. 

“It’s not a girl.”

Louis dropped his pizza. Never once had Oli ever said …

“It’s …”

“Look, I didn’t really intend for it to … it just kind of happened, and I … fuck,” Oli looked away. “I met him at the cafe across from work. I kind of made him drop his coffee, and I insisted I pay for a new one, and we just kind of hit it off?” Louis gaped at him as he rushed to continue. “He was over earlier today and he must have left the raincoat by mistake, but I wanted to impress him so … yeah.”

Louis was silent for a moment more before he smiled widely, pulling Oli into a one armed hug. “Mate, I am so happy for you. And I’m proud too, like … it isn’t easy. I know that better than anyone, but you’re going for it.”

Oli shoved him off, but it was playful. “His name is Liam, and he’s just … everything.”

Louis let out a snort of laughter. “You’re proper smitten with him, aren’t you?”

Oli shrugged and Louis leaned back against the sofa cushions, all remnants of his headache gone. They sat and watched a bit of trash tv as they devoured their food and drink, eventually making it through two beers each before they spoke again. 

“Can’t believe I’ve got a boyfriend and you haven’t,” Oli said with a smirk, and Louis threw pizza crust at him. 

“Oi! It’s not for lack of trying, but you know, being semi-closeted doesn’t lend me much time for experimentation, now does it?” Louis said with a humorless laugh, and Oli’s giddy expression disappeared. 

“Lou …”

Louis shook his head. “No, it’s fine, really. I just switched teams, you know that. It will take a few months before I can have that conversation with them. At least they’re not actively trying to make me straight, eh?”

Oli gave a nod at that, and he picked up his phone. Louis took that moment to pick up his own, seeing a new message from Niall. 

Tour Mngr Niall: Got a few candidates for photog. Sending you the info in an email. Meetings start tomorrow.

Louis groaned. “I can’t believe we leave for tour in six days and I’m back in meetings for photographers tomorrow.”

Oli glanced over. “Did he send samples?”

Louis nodded as he navigated to his email and opened the one in question, turning his phone so Oli could see as they swiped through picture after picture. 

“Fuck, mate, even I know these are shit,” Oli grumbled, and Louis had to agree. The photography itself wasn’t bad, per say, but the style wasn’t him. None of the styles were him. He locked his phone, his headache starting to return coupled with the amount of alcohol he’d had. 

“I’m truly fucked,” Louis said with a sigh, and Oli looked ready to agree when his brow furrowed. Louis looked at him. “What’s up?”

Oli held up a hand as he scrolled frantically through what looked like texts, and then hit a link to instagram. His eyes lit up in a way that had Louis intrigued, fully paying attention now. 

Oli handed Louis his phone, his eyes bright with excitement. Louis took it but didn’t look. “You gonna tell me what you’re on about?”

“Liam mentioned the other day that his friend does really good photography, and it turned out that I was already following him on Instagram. He goes by @hcaptures, and he does landscape. I know that’s not anything like tour, but it’s something?”

Louis side-eyed his friend before looking down at the phone screen, and his mouth dropped open slightly. 

The pictures were good, that was the thing. The lighting was just right on the most recent one, capturing how the rays of sun filtered through the trees of some forest somewhere. Even the ones in black and white had depth to them, something that brought them to life in a way that even Zayn’s pictures hadn’t been able to do. 

“Holy shit …” Louis whispered as he scrolled further down. Every picture had something that jumped out at him, and the editing on them was nothing short of perfection. But Louis also knew, despite not being a photographer himself, that movement shots were harder, and there was no indication that this person - H, as his profile seemed to indicate - had experience in that. But if he could make Louis’ tour pictures look like this? He had to have him. “How can I meet him?”

Oli took his phone back. “Dunno. Maybe message him on Instagram? I’m sure he’d respond, and maybe you can take him with you on tour promo this week to let him get a feel for it, see if he’s any good?”

Louis leaned over and smacked a huge kiss onto Oli’s cheek. “You’re the greatest. Your gay awakening may have just saved my entire tour. I gotta call Niall.”

With that, Louis was up, already dialing, and Niall answered in two rings. 

“Hey, Lou, what’s up?”

“Ni, I think I found our photographer.”

________

H.

Harry panted as he made his way up to his flat, his skin layered with a sheen of sweat from his run. The sun had just started to come up as he had set off that morning, but for some reason, the humidity was at an all time high today. Nevertheless, he hadn’t missed a morning run in almost a year and he wasn’t planning to start now. 

He made his way through his small flat and into the kitchen, where he pulled frozen berries out to thaw while he took a shower. Today, he chose strawberries, blueberries, and raspberries, putting them all in a little bowl in the sink before heading to the bathroom and turning the water on to scalding. He had to have hot water, no matter how warm he was. Cold water made him cringe. 

He climbed in, relishing in the way the water burned as it pounded down on his back. As he leaned his head back, wetting his ever lengthening hair, he thought through the rest of his day. He really wanted to get some good outdoor shots done at the park today. The weather was supposed to be perfect for it, and he hadn’t posted anything new in a few days. That’s where he would head after breakfast. 

Clean and toweling his hair dry fifteen minutes later, he shoved all the berries, some milk, and some ice into his blender and made his usual morning smoothie. His routine had not varied in the slightest over the last six months or so, which was exactly what his therapist had recommended. It helped him manage, anyway. 

He settled himself at his small wooden table next to the open window, where the lightest of breezes played across his face. It was uncommonly fair today - London was not known for its nice weather. Harry would have to take advantage of it. Maybe he’d even ask Liam to come to lunch or something. 

His phone pinged and he turned it over as he sucked down his smoothie. The mixture of berries exploded on his tongue as he opened Instagram. He had been gaining popularity on his account recently, which made him happy, even if no one knew who he was. But that was ok. It was better that way. 

He had a message, which wasn’t uncommon, but usually they were spam. With just over 10k followers, he was used to it by now and spent more time deleting messages than actually posting. He almost deleted it immediately when he saw the name associated with the message, and he choked on his smoothie. 

Louis Tomlinson had sent him a message. Louis. Tomlinson. As in the international up and coming pop star who had sold out his entire first world tour and was on his way to doing the same with his second. 

Harry stopped sputtering long enough to open it, reading his words through watery eyes. 

Hey, H! My name is Louis Tomlinson and I came across your account via a good friend of mine. I really like how you capture the world - there’s an elegance to it that I have yet to find in any photographer I’ve seen thus far in my time in the industry. Which leads me to my point, I suppose. I am finding myself in need of a tour photographer for the UK and Europe leg of my tour starting next week. I know it’s short notice, and I normally wouldn’t ask someone who wasn’t clearly a tour photographer, but there’s just something about your work that I really gravitate towards. Would you be willing to meet with me sometime in the next day or so? Cheers!

Harry wasn’t drinking anymore. He wasn’t even breathing, or blinking, or moving in any way. All he could see were the words tour photographer , burned into his eyes even when he closed them. His breaths were coming out short even as he tried to remain calm. He had sworn off tour photography a long time ago. He was lucky he could even go near his camera without having a panic attack. There was no way he could do this, even though some small part of him almost wanted to respond with a resounding yes please.  

Harry forced his eyes open and dialed Liam’s number, his hands shaking just a little. 

“Hey H!” Liam answered easily, and Harry took a deep breath, trying to contain his fear. 

“Li, I just got a message from Louis Tomlinson.”

“Wait … like the singer, Louis Tomlinson?”

“Yeah. He, umm, he wants me.”

Liam’s laugh echoed down the line. “Well done, H, you’ve got a pop star with the hots for you.”

Harry shook his head. “No, you don’t understand. He … wants me to take pictures. He needs a tour photographer and he …” Harry trailed off, biting down hard on his bottom lip even as the memory of a laugh seemed to bounce around his otherwise empty kitchen. 

“Oh, Harry …” Liam was quiet for a moment. “Do you think he knows who you are? What did you say?”

“I … don’t think so? It just happened, and I … What do I do?”

“Well, that’s up to you, mate. I know you just got back into the swing of things, and I know you said you wouldn’t … but do you want to?”

“I don’t know. Part of me …” Harry took another deep breath. “Part of me wants to meet with him, just meet and see. But I don’t know if I can … I don’t want to waste his time.”

“A meeting can’t hurt, H, but I’ll understand and support you fully if you decide not to go. I understand more than anyone.”

Harry could hear the note of sadness in Liam’s voice and he choked down a sob threatening to escape him. He needed to relax. He could say no if he wanted to. He didn’t have to do this. And yet …

“I guess I can meet with him. Just this once. And if I can’t … if I decide not to, I can direct him to some other photographers?”

Liam hummed. “I think that’s a good idea, H.”

“Right. Yeah.”

“Go on then. You can call me when you’re done and we can get something to eat.”

“Yeah, okay,” Harry said, hanging up and putting his phone face down on the table. In a need to control himself, he downed the rest of his smoothie in three large gulps and took several calming breaths. He could do this. It was just a meeting. 

It took him six attempts to figure out what to say to Louis, but eventually, he settled on something that sounded professional enough.

Thank you for reaching out. I have done some tour work before, but it’s been several years. I think a meeting would be beneficial. I am available any time today, if that works for you. Let me know. H.

There. That would do. Harry was about to lock his phone when three dots appeared, indicating that Louis was messaging back. Harry couldn’t help the thrill that ran through him. It wasn’t like Harry didn’t know who Louis was. That Louis had seen his work and wanted to work with him even with no evidence that he could do what he wanted was huge. 

Thank you! Of course. I’ll send you the address to a favorite little spot of mine and we can have lunch today. This means the world, mate.

Harry waited and then an address came through of a small tea shop in the heart of London. Harry had been there many times, and he smiled slightly, confirming that he would be there. He chucked his phone onto the couch and pulled out a yoga mat, sitting in full lotus and closing his eyes. He needed to meditate or he’d never make it through this. Everything will be fine , he told himself as he slowed his breathing. He just hoped he was right. 

________

A few hours later, Harry found himself climbing off the tube and heading towards the tea shop. He had decided against taking his own car - he hated driving in London. Besides, he had wanted to go to a park or two later on anyway, and his car would just be in the way. 

He found himself looking down, hoping no one would recognize him. Not that people usually did, especially after two years of radio silence on his professional page. He had hair twice as long as it had been back then, and he’d grown taller and leaner. He knew in his heart that he was fine, but his head did most of the talking these days. 

The tea shop was tucked in a small building at the end of the street, the bright flowers on the windows outside making Harry’s hands itch for his camera, which was in his bag. But he could get pictures later. 

He stepped inside and the smell of tea and pastries hit him, making his mouth water slightly. He took a quick look around and, not seeing Louis yet, made his way to the counter to order. Now that he was here, his heart was beating just a tad too fast, and he could feel himself sweating. He needed a calming cup of tea, that’s what he needed. 

He gathered his tea and pastry and turned to the room at large, and then he saw him. Louis Tomlinson was over at a small table by the windows, downing the last of his tea. Harry’s breath caught - Louis was far more beautiful in person. His hair took on a caramel color in the light of the cafe, and it feathered down nicely over his forehead, only drawing more attention to his sharp cheekbones and his long eyelashes. 

But he was here for a meeting, not to ogle Louis. Harry was sure he had enough of that on a daily basis without trying to hire a moony-eyed photographer. 

Harry made his way over slowly and cleared his throat. Louis looked up, blue eyes meeting green. The blue pair went wide and Louis half stood from his chair, staring at Harry. 

Harry had been wrong. He needed much more than tea to get through this. 

________

L.

Louis knew he was staring, but he couldn’t help it. He’d come here to meet H, a simple still life photographer, and now standing in front of him was Harry Styles, one of the most famous tour photographers in the world. It took him a moment to remember to introduce himself. 

“Hi, I’m Louis. You must be H …” Louis trailed off, holding out his hand to shake Harry’s. Harry hesitated for only a fraction of a second before taking Louis’ hand in his own. Louis swallowed as Harry’s much larger hand engulfed his own. He was a bit starstruck, if he was being honest. 

“M’Harry. Nice to meet you.”

Harry’s voice was deep, deeper than Louis expected, and quiet. Louis almost had to lean in to hear him, even as his very pink, very full lips clearly formed the words. Louis shook himself, trying not to gawk, but it was hard. Harry was fucking gorgesous, and if he remembered correctly, Harry had been one of his first choices for his first tour before he’d completely dropped off the grid.

The silence between them lasted for a good 30 seconds before Harry sighed. “You … know who I am, then.”

He sounded almost … upset about it. That was weird. But Louis wasn’t one for lying, so he spoke up. “Yeah, I do. You’re … well, you’re a legend, mate. I can’t believe I’m sitting here with you right now.”

Harry’s lips twitched, the barest hint of a smile there. Louis cocked his head. With everything he’d been told or heard about Harry Styles, he hadn’t expected this quiet man. It was a little unnerving. 

“Right, so …” Harry began slowly, and Louis huffed out a laugh. 

“Yeah. Right. Pictures. So … I guess … well, to be honest, I was ready to ask you to do a trial run with me on a bit of promo this week before hiring you, but now … I mean, the spot is yours if you want it.”

Harry’s gaze dipped at Louis’ offer, his face paling slightly. He took a sip of his tea, but he looked faintly ill. Louis was almost overwhelmed with the need to ask Harry if he was alright, but he felt they didn’t know each other quite well enough for Louis to go all mother hen on him. 

“I, uh … I haven’t done concert photography in a few years. Maybe … could we still do the trial run anyway? Just wanna make sure I’m up to scratch.” 

The last words were coupled with a laugh that didn’t quite reach Harry’s eyes, and Louis’ concern only grew. 

“I mean, if you’d prefer that, absolutely. I just … Harry, are you alright?” Louis couldn’t help himself. Harry looked about two seconds away from bursting into tears or throwing up or both. 

“Yeah, m’fine. Just … when’s the first promo event?”

Louis, jarred by the sudden tone switch, and eye contact, looked down at his phone to the schedule Niall gave him. “Umm, it’s tomorrow at 2! I’m meant to be in a filmed interview and we could always use some candids. And you’re more than welcome to attend rehearsal before that. I can introduce you to the lads.”

“Sounds good. I’ll … be there.”

Louis found himself grinning. “Don’t you need an address for that?”

Harry’s previously pale cheeks flooded with sudden color. “Um, yeah, I guess I do.”

Louis held out his hand wordlessly and Harry handed over his phone. When their fingers brushed, Louis felt a zap of electricity, which he steadfastly ignored. He plugged his number into Harry’s contacts and texted himself, and then handed it back. 

“Text me if you need anything. I’ll let you know where rehearsals are and we can get you introduced to Niall, my tour manager. He’ll get you a schedule should you choose to work with me.”

Harry finally looked up at him again, and Louis found himself flushing slightly. Harry was beautiful, no doubt about it. And he seemed so nervous, Louis just wanted to give him a good cuddle and tell him it was all going to be alright. But he refrained, not wanting Harry to think he was insane or coming onto him. 

“Louis …” Harry said quietly, and Louis smiled, waiting. “I really appreciate you reaching out.”

“Yeah, course. Like I said in my message, your work speaks to me. But if at any point you aren’t feeling it, you can let me know. I won’t be upset or anything. Niall might have a heart attack, but I’ll handle him,” Louis added with a laugh, and that pulled a smile out of Harry, a dimple popping in his cheek. Louis counted that as a win. 

“I’d better go … wanted to do some shooting in the park,” Harry said, lifting his shoulder where his camera bag sat, and Louis nodded. 

“No worries, mate. I’ll see you at the studio tomorrow, then?”

“Yeah, I’ll be there. See you, Louis.”

Louis watched as Harry unfolded himself from his chair and walked away and out the door, the breeze outside blowing his curls into his face. Louis felt a strange mixture of giddy and nervous. For crying out loud, Louis had been pining for Harry’s pictures for years before now. To have this opportunity was huge, bigger than huge. But Harry seemed almost … fragile, and Louis wasn’t quite sure how to handle him. Maybe he just needed some time to warm up to Louis. Louis knew he could be a lot. 

With time to spare now, Louis cleared up his mess and headed out onto the streets of London, making his way to the studio for today’s rehearsal. He was meant to meet with Niall for a few minutes to discuss the photographer issue, and Louis couldn’t wait to tell him who H actually was. 

He was stopped by a few fans who wanted pictures and a chat, and he gladly interacted with them. He loved his fans, more than anything, and any chance he had to make them feel like they had a meaningful experience with him was one he would take, on stage and off. 

When he finally made it to the studio, he was still early, but he figured Niall wouldn’t mind, so he headed up to the office Niall had commandeered for tour planning and burst through his door with his arms held wide, and a huge grin on his face. 

“Horan, you’re going to love me.”

Niall looked up from his computer and rolled his eyes. “You say that all the time, Tommo, and most of the time you just annoy me.”

Louis pouted. “Fine, then I won’t tell you that I just happened across one of the best photographers in the business and he’s willing to do a test run with me this week.”

Niall’s entire body shifted into excitement as he stood. “Who?”

Louis let him sit in silence for a good five seconds before he leaned forward, hands placed on Niall’s desk. “Harry Styles.”

Niall’s mouth dropped open. “You’re not serious.”

“Fucking dead serious, mate. I messaged him last night, and met him this morning. Didn’t even know it was him till he showed up at the tea shop.”

“But he’s been … how did you … what?” Niall spluttered, trying to contain himself, but he was visibly shaking with excitement. “Louis … you got Harry fucking Styles?”

Louis nodded, his smile almost painful with how wide it was, and Niall whooped, launching himself across the desk to pull Louis into a strangling hug. 

“You’re a fucking genius, Lou! Is he really gonna do it?”

“Well, he said he’d come to rehearsal and the filmed interview tomorrow, so I’d say we’re well on our way. But …” Louis said, a thought coming to mind, and Niall’s smile faded. 

“What but? No buts, Louis, I can’t do this again-”

Louis put a hand on Niall’s shoulder. “Chill, mate, I just wanted to tell you … I know most of us in the industry know of Harry, but he’s … much more reserved than you’d expect. He’s very quiet. He almost seemed nervous when I talked to him today.”

Niall’s smile came back in the form of a smirk. “Well, you are a bit much sometimes, Tommo.”

“That’s what I thought too, but just in case … go easy on him, alright?”

“Such a mom, you are. Always taking care of everyone even if you don’t know them, eh?” Niall said with a laugh, and Louis found himself laughing too. 

“Come on then, let’s go tell the band the good news!”

Louis followed Niall out of his office and down the hall to their rehearsal space. Louis could hear the chatter of his band as they approached the door, and Niall was the first in, speaking before Louis was even through the door.

“Lads, tell me, who’s the best tour photographer in the business?”

The answer was unanimous and all at once. “Harry Styles.”

Niall turned towards Louis, his face threatening to split with his smile. “Well, Tommo here just got him for tour.”

There was a beat of silence and then the room exploded with voices. 

“No fucking way!”

“I didn’t think he did tour photography anymore? How’d you find him?”

“God, me mum’s gonna be so pleased when I have pictures of that quality to show her!”

“Slow down, lads,” Louis said, though he couldn’t help but be infected by their collective excitement. “He’s agreed to a trial period tomorrow, but he hasn’t signed on for the tour. You all need to be on your best behavior or he might not want to come with us.”

All his band members rolled their eyes in unison. 

“Yes, mum,” Isaac said cheekily, and Michael huffed out a laugh. Steve was just grinning from behind his drum kit. 

“Bet Steve is pleased - Harry’s the only photographer I know of that can take pictures of a drummer without making them look like they’re having a stroke,” Zak sniggered, and Steve grinned.

“Well, I can’t lie - it will be nice to have a few of those to send home.”

Louis let his bandmates go on as he was handed his earpieces and pack and he ran through a few quiet vocal warmups. He was really excited that everyone was having such a great reaction to Harry, but he also found himself worrying about the photographer. If it really had just been nerves for the first meeting, and it had just been with Louis, Louis was almost terrified to see how he would function around an entire band who was all banter and quick wit and loud, loud, loud. 

But he couldn’t worry about that now. He pulled his mic towards him and spoke into it. “Let’s get cracking, shall we, boys?”

His band moved to their spots and Louis nodded at the sound engineer, who started the click track up in his ears. He closed his eyes, taking in the moment, and then rehearsals began. 

____________

H.

“H, just take a few deep breaths. It’s going to be alright.”

Liam’s voice seemed to echo as Harry scrunched his eyes shut, trying not to fully panic. He’d gone straight from his meeting with Louis Tomlinson to Liam’s without even texting him. Liam, of course, had let him in without asking questions and they’d been sitting on the sofa for the last hour, Liam trying to talk him down as Harry attempted to put into words how he was feeling right now. 

“I … I’m trying, Li. It was … a lot,” Harry said, his words coming out breathy. He dug his fingers into the meat of his thigh, trying to focus on the physical pain of it in hopes that it would bring him back to a calmer reality. After a few moments, he felt the pressure on his chest ease and he opened his eyes, looking into Liam’s brown ones. 

“Did he recognize you?” Liam asked, and Harry nodded. 

“Yeah.”

Liam’s eyes narrowed. “Was he rude to you? Did he say something, ask questions?”

Harry shook his head. “He was really … nice. It was clear he admired my work. But he didn’t ask why I’d been gone.”

“And … what did you decide?”

Liam’s questions were so pointed, digging into the exact emotions that Harry desperately didn’t want to feel right now, but he knew that his best friend had his best interests at heart. 

“Well, he … he actually told me he’d hire me on the spot for the tour. Didn’t even need a trial run, he said.  But I …” Harry swallowed, remembering how it felt like the entire restaurant was staring at him, how the walls seemed to close in when Louis had made that offer. “I needed a trial run. I couldn’t just … he invited me to his rehearsal and a recorded interview tomorrow. And I said I’d go.”

Liam smiled, though his expression was still a bit wary. “I’m really proud of you, H. That couldn’t have been easy to ask for, especially since he was offering you a job up front.”

“Yeah.”

Harry didn’t really have much more to say. Everything else that had gone through his head at that meeting had to do with how unfairly attractive Louis was, and Harry doubted that Liam wanted to hear any of that. 

He found his gaze wandering, not feeling up to the lecture Liam was about to give him about being careful and doing what was right for him, and his eyes landed on a picture in between the two windows in Liam’s flat. He swallowed hard, looking at his and Liam’s easy smiles. The man between them was grinning too, his eyes blown and his expression one of pure undiluted happiness. Harry’s heart ached and he shivered, his skin suddenly feeling clammy. He tore his eyes away, but Liam had noticed. This time, however, Liam didn’t say a word. He looked at the picture himself, his gaze wistful, and then turned back to Harry. 

“So I met a guy,” Liam blurted, and Harry almost had to laugh at the painfully obvious change of subject, but then again, Harry had been the first person to know about Liam’s bisexality, so this topic wasn’t too far off the mark for them. Even so, he was grateful that Liam wasn’t going to approach the one subject he had no interest in discussing.

“Yeah? Tell me about him,” Harry offered, and Liam sighed, his expression going dopey. 

“He’s … different than my usual type, but he’s just so genuine. His name’s Oli, and he’s got this ridiculous hair and he’s a proper lad, but he’s so sweet. Met him at my usual lunch spot. He plowed me over and made me drop my coffee and absolutely insisted on buying me another. We got to talking and …” Liam smiled softly. “I think it could be something.”

Harry smiled. “That’s really nice. What does he do?”

Liam scrolled through his phone and pulled up the man’s profile on Instagram. “He didn’t really say - we’ve only seen each other twice, but on his socials it says that he’s in artist management, which I’m assuming means he works in the industry as well.”

Harry watched as Liam scrolled through a few pictures, and he couldn’t help but picture Oli and Liam together. “You’d make a cute couple, for sure.”

Liam laughed, and then went silent, his finger stilling over a picture from six months ago. Harry’s eyes went wide and he scanned the caption just to be sure he wasn’t seeing things. 

@oliiiii: Sold out half his second world tour already, and it doesn’t start for another six months. Forever proud of you mate @louist91. Can’t wait to travel the world with ya - Cheers!

The picture was of a redhead, which Harry assumed was Oli, judging by the rest of his pictures, and next to him with an arm flung around his neck and a drink in his hand, was Louis Tomlinson.

“Holy shit …” Liam breathed. “My … I told him about you, I said you did photography and sent your profile to him last week.”

Harry brushed his finger over the picture, shaking slightly. “You’re telling me that, by sheer luck, you just happened to be dating Louis Tomlinson’s assistant?”

Liam’s eyes were wider than Harry had ever seen them. “This is how he found you. And Oli had no idea that you were … you. It’s almost like fate.”

Harry pressed his lips together. Fate. He really hated that word. 

“Well, fate and I don’t really have that great of a relationship,” Harry mumbled. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

Liam closed his phone and glared at Harry. “Don’t do this to yourself, H. You’re a bloody good photographer, and Louis knows it. Besides …” Liam’s eyes flickered towards the picture on the wall. “Beau would want you to try.”

Sudden tears filled Harry’s eyes, and he gave a watery gasp. “I …”

Liam’s hand was on his knee now, squeezing it in reassurance. Harry let his eyes drift to the picture, letting himself look into Beau’s eyes. Beau had done everything for him, given him every chance, made him who he was. He’d believed in Harry the same way Louis was believing in him now. And, in all reality, it was just a trial run. He wasn’t on the hook yet. 

“Yeah. Guess you’re right.”

________

Harry eventually made his way back to his own flat, but he couldn’t sleep. His mind wouldn’t settle. Back a few years ago, when he’d been going on tours non-stop, this had always been an issue, but it was adrenaline and excitement then. Now, it was fear. 

Harry hadn’t been on a tour since Beau’s Got Me Goin’ Crazy tour a few years ago. He had given it up, never to approach the idea again. And yet, somehow, he found himself attempting to mentally prepare for the possibility of going out and doing it again. What had possessed him? It certainly wasn’t the length of time he’d had to recover, because no amount of minutes or days or years would be enough. Doing landscape was still extremely hard for him some days. 

If he was honest, it had probably been the fact that it was Louis who was asking. Harry wouldn’t admit it to just anyone, but he’d been a fan of Louis for a while. Even though he couldn’t bear going to a concert on his first tour, he had watched videos, and he had both of Louis’ albums on his phone. And now that he knew the kind of person Louis was from experience, it was very hard to do anything that might make him unhappy, even if Harry was basically shitting himself with every minute that passed that brought him closer to having to do this. 

Finally, he fell into a troubled half sleep, very nearly jumping out of bed when his alarm went off a few hours later. He went through his morning routine - run, shower, smoothie, meditate - but it did nothing to settle his nerves. By the time he had to leave to meet Louis and his band for rehearsal, his legs were shaking so badly he barely made it to the tube platform without falling over. 

Trying one of the many breathing techniques his therapist had taught him, he sat through a handful of stops before getting off about a half mile from the address Louis had given him. The sky was overcast, but he still squinted as he spilled onto the street with busy Londoners on their way to wherever. His feet were taking him where he needed to go, but his mind was spinning, not really paying any sort of attention until he was inside the building. 

“Can I help you, sir?” The person at the front desk said, her voice echoing around the atrium. Harry opened his mouth to speak and then he heard a familiar voice that did nothing to slow the frantic beating of his heart. 

“Harry, you made it!” Louis came striding towards him from the lifts, smiling softly, and Harry pathetically raised his hand in a wave. “You alright?”

“Yeah, m’good. Thanks for having me.”

“Nah, mate, thank you for coming. It’s an honor, really. Let’s go up, yeah?”

They stepped into the still open lift together and Harry leaned back into the corner, watching Louis press the floor button. 

“Look, I wanted to talk to you actually, before you meet the band,” Louis began, and Harry’s stomach dropped. He wiped his now sweaty hands on his trousers, preparing for the worst. “We’re a bit of a … boisterous group. Loud, brash, always taking the piss, you know how it is. But I … I know you’re a bit more reserved, and it might be a lot, so if it’s too much, please just let me know, yeah? I’ve told them to behave but honestly I have no control over whatever antics they might get up to.” Louis swallowed as Harry stared at him in disbelief. “I just want you to feel comfortable with us, that’s all.”

Harry couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Louis didn’t even know him - he really only knew about his reputation in the industry. They’d spent a total of maybe 20 minutes together the other day and Harry had said approximately 50 words max. And yet Louis was here, saying these kind things and taking notice of the small things Harry would never expect people to cater to. It was so refreshing to see an artist treat people like this. 

“I, umm, that’s really kind of you. Thank you.” Harry didn’t intend to keep speaking, but his mouth had other ideas. “I’m not always like this. It’s just …”

“No, I get it,” Louis said immediately, and Harry felt his face drain of color. His name had never once been mentioned in the articles about the incident two years ago, but still - people could put two and two together if they tried hard enough. Did Louis know what had happened? “It can be hard coming back to something after a bit away, and even harder doing it with people you don’t know.”

Harry released the breath he’d been holding. So Louis didn’t know - he was just being a good person. Harry didn’t know which he preferred - on one hand, he was very lucky that Louis didn’t know, because that meant that he wasn’t being pitied, which he hated. But on the other hand, if Louis knew, he might understand if Harry couldn’t continue working for him, if he even decided to do it in the first place. It was exhausting. 

“Well, I know you.”

The words were out of Harry’s mouth before he realized what he’d said, and he blushed. Louis looked at him, his mouth quirked up. 

“Oh do you? Proper fan of me, are you?” he said, his tone teasing, but Harry nodded in embarrassment. 

“I am, yeah.”

It was Louis’ turn to blush, and the color hit his cheekbones in such a way that Harry found himself staring. 

“That’s … really sweet, actually. Usually I have to bully my photographers to listen to at least one of my songs before coming on tour with us. Guess I chose wisely this time around.”

Harry huffed out a laugh at the blatant Indiana Jones reference as the lift dinged and they stepped out onto the floor. A brunette man was standing there waiting for them, and Louis smiled as he stopped short. 

“Harry, this is my tour manager, Niall Horan. Ni, this is Harry Styles.”

“Oh, don’t I know it,” Niall’s Irish accent was strong as he held out a hand to Harry. “Very pleased to finally meet you.”

“You too,” Harry all but whispered, a bit thrown by such an enthusiastic greeting. Niall was grinning as he let go and started leading them both down the hall. 

“Mate, you don’t even understand how excited I am that Lou here met you. I’ve been trying to get you to tour with him since his mini tour three years ago, didn’t you know?”

“I … didn’t know that, no,” Harry said quietly. 

“Yeah, yeah, but you were on tour with that one singer … the one that died a few years ago … Beau Nelson, right?”

Harry’s entire body went cold and he tripped, somehow managing to continue walking even though his body was preparing to panic. It had been a long time since someone had mentioned what happened to Beau so casually, and Harry felt physically ill. Louis was now looking back over his shoulder at him, a mixture of emotions on his face that Harry didn’t have the energy to figure out. The strap of his camera bag felt like it was burning through his shoulder. It would be a miracle if he could even put his hands on his camera today. God, he needed air. 

“Here we are!” Niall announced, seeming to have forgotten entirely about his question that Harry had never actually answered. Harry was barely with it, he could feel himself losing touch with his surroundings just a little, but then Louis’ hand was on his arm. 

“I promise, they’ll be good. They’re a good bunch of lads. Yell at them if they annoy you,” Louis said softly, and Harry focused on where Louis’ fingers were splayed across his arm. He could do this. He had to do this. Even if he decided not to tour, he was already here. A trial run wouldn’t kill him … hopefully. 

Harry merely nodded and followed Louis inside, trying to force all memory of Beau to the back of his mind. He just had to get through the next few hours without having a complete breakdown. 

Louis had been right, the band were good guys. They all introduced themselves and praised his previous work. Though they all knew his name and had seen his pictures, none of them mentioned Beau, which was a relief. Harry thought he might have run screaming if they had. They warmed up and fucked around as Harry put his bag down in the corner and began assembling his camera and lens. His hands were slippery with sweat and his head felt fuzzy as his fingers did the work like muscle memory. 

“Harry, we’re gonna get started, but feel free to take all the time you need,” Louis said into his microphone, and Harry jumped, nearly dropping the camera. He just nodded to no one, securing the strap around his neck to the sides of the camera. The weight of it felt both familiar and foreign as he stood up and turned to face Louis and his band, who were launching into the opening song of Louis’ set, a song called We Made It from his first album. 

It has been Louis’ music that had gotten Harry through the last two years, so Harry mouthed the words as Louis sang, letting the feeling of comfort settle into his bones. He raised his camera and adjusted the lens, taking a deep breath in before snapping a few shots. He pulled away, checking them on the screen, and breathed out. They looked alright, and he hadn’t passed out or something equally embarrassing. Maybe this wouldn’t end in disaster. 

He let his body do the work for him, moving around and getting as many shots as he could of every band member, of the whole band, even the instruments or the decoration on Louis’ in-ears. It was familiar, almost easy, in a way, and by the time Louis and the band were running the encore, Harry’s hands had stopped shaking and he was breathing normally. He even found himself smiling as the guitarist, Michael, if he remembered correctly, pulled a face just as Harry snapped a picture of his solo. 

“Yes, fucking let’s go, lads,” Louis yelled into the mic as they ended the final song, and all his bandmates yelled similar things into theirs. Harry, who was looking down at his final pictures, felt Louis’ eyes on him and looked up sheepishly. Louis’ face softened when they made eye contact. 

Then it was clean-up. This was the last rehearsal before soundcheck at the first venue, and they wanted everything packed up and ready to go, or so Niall said as he hurried everyone around the room. Harry retreated to his corner, looking through his pictures and frowning slightly as he noted a few shaky ones. There was something missing, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. 

“Hey … how’d it go?” Louis said and Harry looked up to see the singer a foot or so away, making sure his packs and in-ears were all in the right place. 

“I got some decent shots,” Harry admitted, not wanting to say what he really thought of his work right now. 

“Maybe you can show me later after the interview,” Louis offered, and Harry hummed, not truly answering the question. He didn’t think he’d be showing anybody these - the more he looked at them, the worse he felt. He picked them apart even as he packed up his camera bag and followed the band into the hallway and to the lifts. Though the lighting in the room had been decent, the shots all seemed to be at poor angles, no matter where in the room he had stood. Some were slightly blurry. Some weren’t zoomed properly. Some just downright sucked. 

Harry tried to concentrate on anything else as Louis and the band walked off in separate directions. Harry followed Louis, who climbed into a nice car that was taking him to his interview. Louis patted the seat next to him and Harry slid in, his knee brushing against Louis’ and sending a spark all the way down to his toes. He removed the contact between them quickly. As if he needed to deal with whatever he was feeling for Louis at the moment with everything else going on in his mind. 

Louis was talking animatedly with his driver and his bodyguard, both of whom sat in the front of the car. Harry stayed silent, trying to keep his mind clear of any thoughts whatsoever, and by the time he finally managed it, the car had stopped and Louis was looking at him expectantly. He needed to get out. 

“Sorry,” Harry mumbled, getting out of the car quickly and almost bumping his head on the door. Louis got out after him and a few gasps and screams echoed from either side. Harry hadn’t even noticed that there were fans here until that moment. Well, he didn’t look so good now, did he? Just some rando in a car with a famous pop star, even if he had his camera bag over one shoulder. 

Harry stuck with Louis’ bodyguard, Joni, as Louis walked up to the fans, talking and snapping pictures and signing whatever was thrust under his nose. 

“Does he always …” Harry began to ask, and Joni nodded with a soft smile. 

“Yeah. He’s very good with them. Loves just having a chat, you know?” Joni said as he watched the fans carefully making sure they didn’t grab Louis. Harry just watched on, ignoring the stares he was getting from them. Louis was smiling so wide, holding hands with fans as they spoke to him, making sure they knew that he was listening to them and only them. It was admirable, and reminded Harry so much of Beau that he felt tears prick in his eyes. 

“I’m gonna … head inside? ‘S a little loud,” Harry said, and Joni nodded, pulling the door open for him. Harry escaped into the relative quiet and pressed his lips together, trying not to completely fall apart. He’d lasted almost two years without allowing himself to dwell on Beau and now he’d had him on his mind for almost an entire day straight. It hadn’t been this bad in a long time, and Harry was dying to call Liam or his therapist or someone and tell them he wanted picked up, but he was a fucking grown man, damn it. He had to take care of himself. 

Louis came in shortly after, his face graced with the most beautiful smile, his eyes bright and sparkling as he shook hands with everyone he saw, Joni close behind. Harry followed, fiddling with his camera as they went. These pictures would be a bit easier to take, and Harry figured he could do a bit in the hallway, and maybe some after with the fans too. 

The interview passed by quickly. Harry had to admire, even through his camera, how animated Louis was. His hands moved as he spoke and his expressions never failed to show what he was truly feeling, even if the interviewer completely missed. Harry almost laughed at one shot he got of Louis looking right at him, his eyes blazing as he spoke about his excitement for tour. He looked a little manic, Harry thought as he deleted it. He was becoming increasingly frustrated with himself because none of the pictures were coming out right. Louis kept shooting him quick looks, which meant that Harry was doing a poor job of hiding his annoyance. 

When the interview was over, Harry followed Louis and Joni back outside to the fans who had waited through it and he put his camera back up to his face, focusing in on the fans and taking picture after picture. Maybe he just wasn’t getting enough shots to work with. Maybe that was it. 

As they both climbed into the back of the car, Harry realized that he didn’t really need to be there - he could have just caught the tube. 

“Umm, you can let me out at the next tube station,” he said, and Louis looked at him incredulously.

“After me dragging you all over London? Nah, we can drive you home. What’s your address?”

“You … you sure?”

“Of course. Now give me your address before I take you back to mine.”

Harry ignored the part of him that would not have argued at all if Louis took him to his own house and plugged his flat’s address into the GPS. 

They spent the trip in relative silence, Harry realizing just how tired he was. When they arrived, Louis turned to him. 

“I know today was a lot, and I know you’ll probably want to do some fancy picture editing or whatever, so maybe you could have samples to me tomorrow afternoon? I only need a few, whatever you’re willing to show me, if that’s alright? Just text them to me.”

Harry wanted to opt out right now. He did. The words were there: Sorry, Louis, today was fun, but I don’t think I’m the right fit for your tour. But he couldn’t say them. There was something holding him back, some part of him that felt like he was finally home again. So he just nodded and clambered out of the car, giving Louis a fleeting smile before hurrying up the steps to his building. He had glimpsed Liam’s car outside - Liam had said he would be there when Harry got home in case Harry needed him, and boy did he ever. 

Harry fumbled his key and shouldered his way into his flat, leaving his shoes by the door and wandering into the main room. Liam was there, nestled into a cocoon of blankets and watching something on the telly. He looked up as Harry’s camera bag hit the floor with a soft thump. 

“Harry … how was it?”

Harry didn’t have an answer. It was as if every emotion he’d been holding back all day was suddenly hitting him at once. The mentions of Beau, the strange normality of taking action shots, the exhaustion that came with constant moving around, and the distaste for his work. His eyes filled with tears, some spilling over onto his cheeks. 

“I … it was …” he stuttered, wiping at his eyes furiously. Liam was up in an instant, wrapping his arms around Harry in a tight hug, and Harry broke. 

“Oh, H, c’mere.”

Harry shuddered violently as Liam led him to the sofa and let him curl up in his lap. Harry lay his head against Liam’s shoulder, sniffling. 

“S-sorry,” he muttered, and Liam squeezed him. 

“Don’t. You’re allowed to be upset. Want to talk about it?”

Harry didn’t. But he did. His therapist would tell him to let it out, to speak the emotions aloud so he could deal with them face to face. Liam knew this - they went to the same therapist, and sometimes had joint sessions. 

It took him a few more minutes of sitting there, letting tears course down his cheeks while Liam rubbed his back softly, before he was able to speak properly. 

“It was great, actually,” he began, and Liam pulled back just enough for Harry to catch the surprise on his face. “I … when I took that first picture, it was like my body and mind were finally one, that I was where I needed to be. Everything made sense in that moment.”

“I get that. You loved what you did,” Liam said softly, but his eyebrows were creased with confusion. “But why are you upset? Cause these aren’t happy tears.”

Harry pressed his lips together, wiping his eyes. “Louis’ tour manager, Niall, he said … he said he’d tried to get me for Louis’ mini tour a few years ago, but I was on tour … we were on tour with-”

“Beau,” Liam finished in a whisper. “Did he … does he know?”

Harry shook his head. “He knows I was Beau’s photographer, and he knows that Beau … that he’s … but I don’t think he put it together, no.” Harry took a shaky breath. “It was just … hard to hear his name in conversation again. So casually. And I think it fucked with my pictures, cause they just don’t look right.”

“Well, it’s been a few years, you just have to get used to it again,” Liam prompted, but Harry didn’t believe him. 

“It’s not just that. It’s like … Louis is so bright. He is so kind to his fans, so personable with them, it reminds me so much of Beau. And I just … even if I had one good picture to show for it, even if Louis is beautiful and sweet and I would give anything to work for him, I think it will be too much. I almost threw up in the bathroom after the interview.”

Liam was silent for a minute and Harry finally pulled away from him, rubbing at his eyes. They sat for a bit, the telly still going in the background, but neither of them were paying attention to it. Harry was sure that Liam too was being swamped with memories of their nights on tour, of the screaming of thousands of fans, of the flashing lights and the drinks and the drugs … all of it. 

“I’m going to be super honest with you, alright? And you may not want to hear this, but I’m going to say it anyway because I think Irene would agree with me,” Liam said, and Harry pulled his legs up to his chest, curling in on himself. 

“Yeah, alright.”

Liam took a breath and then stared at Harry, his gaze determined. “I think you have to say yes. I know today was hard, and if anyone figures out what really happened that night, it might get harder. But I know how much you loved your job, how much you still love it, long for it, even. I remember how happy it made you to be out there, seeing the relationship between artist and fan, and getting to be a part of sharing that with the world. Even now,” Liam said, leaning over to wipe a stray tear from Harry’s cheek. “Even though you’re crying, I can see that you’ve come alive today, for the first time in almost two years. I haven’t seen your eyes this bright in a long time.”

“But Beau …”

“Beau is gone,” Liam said, his voice biting. “But even if he wasn’t, he knew these things too. If he were here right now, he’d be telling you to get off your skinny arse and go do what makes you happy.”

Harry’s lips trembled as more tears found their way to his cheeks. As much as he hated to admit it, Liam was right. He usually was, come to think of it. “But … how? How do I say yes to this knowing that just being in a venue might set me off?”

“I … I hadn’t thought that far into the speech,” Liam admitted with an embarrassed smile, and Harry found himself chuckling. Liam reached for his hand and Harry took it. “It’s not going to be easy. But Louis trusts you, and he likes you, and from what you’ve told me, he’s a really decent guy. If he senses that you need help, he’ll get it for you, of that I have no doubts. But H … this was always your dream, and most of us don’t get a second shot at our dream. You have one. You have to take it, no matter the cost.”

Harry let that sink in. He knew it would be hard, beyond hard. He knew that he’d end up being on facetime with his therapist non-stop for the first week, probably. He knew that he would be haunted every step of the way by the memories he’d made with Beau. But it was his dream, his true calling. And here was an offer on a silver platter. 

“I … alright. Yeah. You’re right. But you have to help me sort through these pictures because they’re shit,” Harry mumbled, and Liam cheered. 

“You’re on. Let me put the kettle on and order a pizza.”

Harry smiled and reached for his camera bag and his laptop. This was going to be an eventful night. 

____________

L.

Louis found himself awake at midnight, staring at a new tab on his laptop, guilt and curiosity having a furious battle in his mind. 

He knew, of course, that Harry had gotten his fame from touring with underground songwriter turned international star Beau Nelson. Their names had been in the press together for many years, and as an aspiring artist himself, Louis had followed Beau’s career. 

He also knew, of course, that Beau had died, but at the time of his death, Louis’ career was starting to take off, and so his main focus had been on that. 

But Harry’s reserved nature, the way he seemed to be nervous about everything, and the look on his face when Niall had mentioned Beau had Louis wondering about a lot of things, namely how Harry was connected to Beau’s death. Obviously they had been friends - how could they not be? They became famous in their own rights together. But to Louis, it seemed more personal than that. 

And so he was struggling, because on the one hand, he felt like if Harry wanted him to know anything about his life, he would share it, and he hadn’t offered Louis even the slightest hint towards that desire, and Louis didn’t want to pry into Harry’s personal life. But on the other, he thought that maybe if he knew more about Harry and whatever he was struggling with, he could help him somehow. Which was so stupid, considering he’d met Harry all of two days ago, but he couldn’t get it out of his head. 

Finally, he gave in. He typed in the words “Beau Nelson Death” and hit enter. Immediately, seven different tabloid articles came up, and he clicked on the least trashy of them, reading through it quickly. 

BREAKING NEWS: Popstar Beau Nelson Found Dead!

International pop sensation Bean Nelson, while on his Got Me Goin’ Crazy tour, was found dead in his room at the Park Royal Hotel this morning. 

Paramedics responded to a call around 8AM when two friends discovered Nelson’s body, and he was pronounced dead on the scene. Autopsy reports later showed that he had overdosed on a combination of unknown substances, and it didn’t seem to be purposeful. 

His team asks that we respect his and his family’s privacy as they try to navigate this tragedy, and we send out all our love and thoughts to his fans, who are surely devastated. Read below for fan reactions to Nelson’s death. 

Louis swallowed hard as he read through a few more, all saying relatively the same things. He hadn’t known it was an overdose that killed Beau, and he couldn’t imagine losing a friend like that. No wonder Harry was a little … subdued. It must have been horrible for the people who found him, too. No one desersved to go through that. 

A few more clicks had him back to an article from a few months prior to that, one that had Harry’s name in the headline too. 

Beau Nelson snags Photographer Harry Styles for Got Me Goin’ Crazy Tour

Beau Nelson broke the news to us yesterday, folks - Harry Styles is officially off the tour photography market. 

The Got Me Goin’ Crazy singer posted on Instagram about inviting his long time friend, Harry Styles, on tour to take pictures, and fans are going crazy. Styles and Nelson came up through the ranks together, their friendship a staple in the music and photography industries alike, as well as for Beau’s fans, more affectionately known as Lovers.

Styles is slowly becoming one of the most sought after photographers in the business, and we certainly can’t wait to see what he has in store for this tour. 

You can find both Beau and Harry on Instagram: @bigbadbeau and @hestylespictures

Louis picked up his phone then and opened Instagram, heading for Harry’s first. It came up after a bit of digging, but it was on private and Louis couldn’t see a thing. So he headed for Beau’s instead, hoping that Instagram had memorialized it like they’d done for others. 

He was in luck. Beau’s feed popped up immediately, and Louis found himself clicking on the last picture, smiling. 

It was a selfie of Beau and two other people, one Louis recognized and one he didn’t. Harry stood right behind Beau, and though he looked much younger, it was definitely him. His curls were much shorter, flopping into his eyes instead of cascading down to his shoulders like they did these days. His camera was around his neck. But his smile was there, bright and genuine and so, so wide. Behind Harry was another guy, bulky in body but boyish in face, with a buzzed haircut and an arm full of tattoos. 

Louis scanned the caption then.

@bigbadbeau: Tour life is the best life. Couldn’t do it without these two. Ready for a fucking great show and a night in with the mates. 

Louis checked the date on the picture and felt his heart skip a beat. It had been posted the night before he died, probably right before he went on stage. And he had said that he would be hanging with the boys, presumably Harry and this other guy. Did that mean that … fuck, it must have meant that Harry and this other guy were the ones to find Beau the next morning. The articles had said his body was discovered by two friends, but no names had been mentioned.

Louis frantically went back and clicked on Harry’s new profile, @hcaptures, and scrolled all the way to the bottom of the feed. He had only started posting about 6 months previously. 

“Fuck …” Louis muttered to himself, putting his phone down and running his hands over his face. No fucking wonder Harry had been so hesitant to agree to anything, why he requested a trial run despite being handed a job. 

But Louis couldn’t tell him that he knew, could he? Harry hadn’t volunteered that information for a reason. Maybe he didn’t want people to know.

Louis closed his laptop and put it on the floor, pulling his duvet up to his chin and snuggling down into his mattress. After another hour or so of trying to turn his brain off, he fell into a troubled sleep. 

________

When Louis woke the next morning, it wasn’t to his usual alarm or to the sun or to anything like that. It was to the sound of his phone ringing. He opened one eye blearily and felt around for his phone, finally extracting it from under his pillow. He blinked at the name displayed across his screen and sat up suddenly, answering as fast as he could before the call ended. 

“Hello?” He tried hard not to sound like he’d just woken up. 

“Umm … hi, Louis. This is Harry.”

Louis knew that of course, but Harry introducing himself all the time was kind of endearing, so he didn’t mention it. “Good morning, Harry,” he said with a soft chuckle, and if he wasn’t mistaken, he thought he heard a sharp intake of breath. 

“I, umm, wanted to call you because I finished editing the pictures.” Louis didn’t say a word, because he knew the next words out of Harry’s mouth would determine the outcome of his entire tour. “I sent you the ones I liked, and I thought maybe you’d want to hear it personally when I … when I accept the job offer.”

Louis flopped back down on his pillows, his entire body seeming to collapse with relief. “Oh god, Harry, that’s … that’s amazing news.” Remembering suddenly about Beau, however, his excitement dimmed a little as worry set in. “Are you sure, though?” He cringed at the obvious concern lacing his voice, and hoped Harry didn’t take it to mean that Louis didn’t want him to take the job, which he then clarified. “Not that I don’t want you to take it, of course, cause this is really exactly what I wanted, but I just wanted to make sure we didn’t … scare you off yesterday.”

He could hear a huff of air, like Harry had almost laughed at that. Louis thought he’d quite like to hear Harry’s laugh. “Yeah, m’sure. I think it’s a good idea. And you obviously need all the help you can get.”

Louis laughed. “Harry Styles, was that a dig at me? Because I’ll have you know that Niall takes amazing pictures.”

“Yeah right,” Harry mumbled into the phone, and Louis was laughing again. 

“I really appreciate this, Harry. You don’t even know how much. Umm … for your scheduling, we leave for the first tour stop in three days. We’re gonna have to take a plane to the first few but after that, we’ll have tour buses. I can get you your own if you’d like, with all the things you need for … photographing and shit.”

“Umm, I would be alright sharing. I just need my laptop,” Harry said, and Louis thought he could hear a hint of a smile. 

“RIght then, I’ll have you share with me. The band gets their own, as do the bodyguards and the crew, but I’m all on my lonesome. It will be good to have company.”

“Yeah. Alright. Thanks. I’ll meet you for the flight then?”

“I’ll make the arrangements and have Niall send you your tickets and everything. Thank you again, so much. He’s gonna be thrilled. I know I am.”

“S’no problem,” Harry said, and with that, they said their goodbyes and hung up. 

Louis immediately called Niall, who picked up with a very disgruntled “This better be good, Tommo.”

Louis grinned. “Oh, it is. I’ve just bagged Harry Styles for this leg of our tour.”

There was a moment of silence and then a cacophony of sound from the other end, and Louis knew he was pleased. That was all he needed, and he threw back his covers, ready to start the worst part of touring - packing. 

________

Louis hated airports with a fiery passion.

You’d think he’d be used to crowds by now, relish in them, even, but airports were nothing like concerts. They had so many sounds and screens and people in varying states of frustration and hurry, and it was almost too much for him to deal with. 

He adjusted his carry-on on his shoulder and moved out of the line for checked bags to stand with the rest of his band and Joni. JD would be meeting them when they got off the plane in Iceland. The only person missing was …

“Oi, where’s Harry?” Niall asked as he hurried up to the group, his face flushed. Louis checked his phone for a text or something, but his notifications were, for once, empty. 

“He told me he was on his way. Maybe he’s just stuck in traffic.”

“Oli isn’t here either,” Matt noted, and Louis looked around, hoping to catch a glimpse of his manager’s red hair in the crowd. They had plenty of time to board, but Louis was almost terrified of seeing Harry. Other than a text that morning saying Harry was on his way to the airport, he hadn’t heard from the photographer since their phone call. And despite the reassurance that he was indeed coming, Louis had this nagging feeling that Harry was regretting his decision to accompany Louis and his band on tour and that he might just make a run for it. 

Not that Louis would blame him. The knowledge that he’d discovered had stayed his secret. He hadn’t even shared it with Niall. And though he didn’t mind keeping it a secret from the others, as Harry clearly didn’t want anyone to know, he wanted to talk to Harry, to make him aware that Louis would do everything in his power to make sure Harry had a good experience. But he didn’t want to alienate Harry from him by mentioning this whole thing. 

“Lou!”

Louis looked up from where he’d been studying the floor, battling with his own mind. Oli was wending his way through the crowd with Harry and the other man from Beau Nelson’s instagram post in tow. Louis had never been this confused in his life. 

Making sure his expression was one of relief and happiness and not complete and utter confusion and shock, Louis stepped forward, pulling Oli into a one armed hug. “Thank fuck you made it. What took you so long?”

Oli looked over his shoulder at the muscular man, his expression softening in a way Louis had never seen. “This git here insisted on driving us, but we got a bit stuck.”

“Hi. You must be Louis. My name’s Liam,” the man said, holding out his hand. Suddenly, everything made sense. Liam must have been the other friend of Beau’s, and he must have been the same Liam that Oli was seeing, which is why Oli had Harry’s instagram. 

All of this flew through his mind at warp speed as he shook Liam’s hand. “Nice to meet ya. You joining us on tour, then?”

Liam flushed slightly. “Ah, no. Not really my scene anymore, but I’ll definitely come visit Oli if he … wants to have me, of course.” He looked nervously at Oli, who was grinning from ear to ear. 

“Course I want you to come. I’m sure Harry would like to have a friend around as well, right, Harry?”

Louis looked from Oli to Harry and was surprised to see a soft smile gracing Harry’s features. Louis felt his stomach flip at the sight. 

“Yeah, Li, you should come.”

Liam smiled at the pair of them and then hesitated only for a second before pulling Oli into a hug. Oli’s face was a brilliant shade of scarlet that Louis would definitely have to make fun of him for later. 

As Liam let Oli go, Louis turned to him, wanting to give Harry and Liam a moment to say their goodbyes. He could still see them, though, out of the corner of his eye, and he saw Harry bury his face in Liam’s shoulder as they hugged. Liam was saying something, so softly only Harry could hear, and Louis, not wanting to be that guy, spoke to Oli. 

“So you gonna tell me how you wound up in a car with my photographer? And why he likes you so much?” Louis asked, and Oli looked at him. 

“Damn, Lou, you know, jealousy is a disease.”

“I’m not … what do you mean, jealous?” Louis sputtered, and Oli just smirked. 

“I was just joking, jeez. Liam offered to give me a ride and I took it, and it just so happened that Harry needed a ride too, so here we are.”

“Right,” Louis mused, still thrown by the jealousy comment. But then Harry was standing next to him, looking at him, his hands clutching his carry-on bag in front of him. Louis swallowed hard as he looked into those green eyes. 

“You ready to go?” he asked, for want of a better thing to say, and Harry nodded. Though he was smiling, there was a slight sheen of sweat across his pale forehead, and Louis noted the darting of his eyes. He leaned in closer to Harry as they began making their way to the gate. “I don’t like airports either. Too much … shit going on, you know?”

Harry nodded. “M’not a big fan of crowds. Don’t really like other people touching me,” he said quietly, and Louis felt his heart ache for him, but there was not much he could do at this point, and Louis was determined not to treat Harry as fragile despite what he knew about his past. 

“If you need anything, you can talk to me, you know that right?” Louis said as they stopped and dumped their bags in a heap by some empty seats, the band branching off to buy snacks. Harry stayed where he was, as did Louis. 

“Yeah. Thanks,” Harry replied, settling in one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs and pulling out his phone. Louis desperately needed a wee, but he didn’t want to leave Harry alone, so he stayed until Joni came back from the shops. 

When he reached the restroom, he did what he needed to do and then stared at himself in the mirror as he washed his hands. He was surprised no one had come up to him yet - his fans had a tendency to find him at the most inopportune times, like when he was at the urinal, for instance, but it had been pretty low key. He supposed he should be grateful because it would be anything but when he got to Iceland. 

When he got back to the group, which was slowly reassembling one by one, Harry had his camera out and was fiddling with it. 

“You all ready to make us look like rock stars?” Louis teased, sliding into the seat next to him, and Harry jumped. “Sorry.”

“No, no, it’s … yeah, I guess. Got a new lens and I wanted to test it before the show tomorrow,” Harry said. 

“Well, feel free. I’m very glad to be your muse,” Louis said, tilting his head to one side in a pose that probably wasn’t even a pose. To his surprise, Harry lifted the camera to his face and clicked away. “Oh god, those can’t be good.”

Harry chuckled, his dimple making an appearance, and Louis’ heart swelled with happiness and something a little like pride. “I think it works. Take a look?” 

Harry held out the camera to Louis, who took it gently, not wanting to somehow break it. He had to admit, even in these raw photos, he looked pretty good. Harry knew just what angle to make to show the shadow of Louis’ eyelashes against his cheek, or the bright sparkle in his eyes, or the cut of his cheekbones. 

“Wow, Harry. These are amazing.” Louis looked up in time to see a pretty blush wash over Harry’s cheeks. “You’re a natural.” He felt the need to praise Harry constantly, especially if it would make his cheeks that perfect shade of pink. 

“Thanks, Lou,” Harry whispered, and Louis grinned.

“Oohhh, we’re using nicknames now. Alright then, I need one for you … how bout Curly?”

Harry’s nose wrinkled at that. “My sister used to call me that when we were kids. Makes me feel about five.”

“I get that. My sisters had a ridiculous name for me too growing up and they still use it to this day,” Louis said sagely, and Harry’s smile widened so he was actually showing teeth. 

“Well, now you have to tell me.”

“Oh no, Harold, my boy. You have to earn that.”

Harry’s pout was almost as adorable as his smile, and Louis might have embarrassed the shit out of himself by saying that out loud if they hadn’t started boarding at that exact moment. He shook himself, trying to get out of his head. He couldn’t be having such thoughts about his photographer, a person, moreover, that he’d known for less than a week. He needed to get a grip.

They clambored onto the plane and into first class, something that Louis liked to do for his friends and his band whenever he could. He had the money, why not make their travel as comfortable as possible. He flopped down into his seat and then realized that Harry was staring down at him, a frown on his face. 

“Did you want this one?” Louis asked, and Harry bit his lip. 

“I, uh … I don’t really like the number 17? And that’s my seat number …”

Louis was up instantly, handing over his seat 19 boarding pass. “No worries, mate, here, take mine.”

Harry looked at him through glassy green eyes and Louis wanted to hug him. He almost did as they shuffled around each other, but it was too soon for that kind of contact, especially because Harry had said specifically that he didn’t like to be touched by other people. 

Louis settled into his new seat in front of Harry, pulling out his airpods and setting up for the flight. Snacks next to him, tray down and ready for whatever alcohol they’d be offering, and screen on, scrolling through the movie options. 

By the time they took off, Louis was already antsy. He didn’t like being cooped up like this, no matter how nice the plane was. He could hear Harry’s steady breathing behind him as the plane climbed higher and higher, and then they were level. The seatbelt light went off. And Louis heard the telltale sound of a drinks cart. He leaned his head back and waited, the excitement starting to build in him. He was finally back on tour. He had the best photographer in the business sitting right behind him. He was doing what he loved. Life couldn’t get much better than that. 

____________

H.

Harry was surprised at how calm he was right now. How calm he’d been from the moment Liam had left him at the airport. Because this was the absolute last thing he thought he’d be doing, and yet he was doing it. 

He had settled into his hotel room just a few hours ago, and as he sat there, laptop open and his camera next to him, he felt like he was right where he belonged. It was strange - he thought he’d be having a panic attack right now. He’d told Liam as much before they’d picked Oli up. But he didn’t feel the need to panic, not right now. 

He was calm, and therefore he was suspicious of his own feelings. 

Louis had invited him out with the band to go to a hot spring, one of the best things to do while in Iceland, but he’d declined. He wasn’t sure he wanted to spend more time surrounded by people today, and Louis hadn’t pushed him to come. 

“The pictures will be a bit shit then, but that’s fine. Hope you settle in alright!” Louis had called on his way out. 

And here Harry was, just having ordered room service, ready to have a nice early night to prepare for what was sure to be a very long day the next day. 

He heard a knock on the door five minutes later and he got to his feet, padding to the door, his mouth watering at the thought of food. But it wasn’t his food at the door. It was Louis. Louis with damp, stringy hair and a beautiful smile on his face. 

“Hey.”

“Hi,” Louis said brightly. “Have a good rest?”

Harry nodded. “Yeah. Just got some food.”

“Want some company?”

Harry almost wanted to say no - he’d gotten very used to being on his own. He’d had to, really, after Beau. Liam was too busy in therapy and Harry himself was too busy pushing it all down to have much time for socializing. But he felt this pull towards Louis, and he stood aside without a word, allowing him inside. 

Louis flopped down on Harry’s bed and pulled himself up to the pillows, looking at Harry’s laptop in wonder. 

“Were you editing?”

Harry nodded again. “It … calms me down.”

Louis looked at him, his eyebrows crunching together. “Are you … not calm?” 

“No, no, I am, it’s more like … relaxing, I guess. Honestly I thought I'd be shitting myself,” Harry found himself saying without meaning to. 

Louis’ face morphed into an expression that looked remarkably like guilt before it flashed back to slight confusion. 

“Oh. Well, if I’m bothering you, I can go. Just thought you might want someone to … you know, since you spent all afternoon alone?” Harry wasn’t used to hearing Louis sound so unsure. 

“No, please … please stay. I like spending time with you.”

It was the truth. Even though they had spent very little time alone together, Harry found himself wanting to do it more. He wanted to know everything about Louis, because even the most ridiculous of stories made Harry laugh. 

Louis’ manic grin was back and he hopped off the bed as another knock sounded at the door. “Must be your food. I’ll get it for ya.”

Harry moved his things out of the way and flicked on the telly, searching for a music station or something that he could play in the background. Louis came flouncing back with the plates of waffles and pancakes and quirked an eyebrow at Harry. 

“Breakfast food, Harold? Really?”

Harry blushed. “Don’t judge me, Lou, it’s my comfort food.” Harry neglected to mention that it was what Beau, Liam, and him always ordered the night before tour. He wasn’t ready to talk about Beau with Louis, with anyone, yet. 

“Whatever makes you happy, love,” Louis said, his voice softening, and Harry wanted to melt into the floor at the pet name. He was sure it meant nothing, but it meant something to him. 

Harry sat down on the bed and took the plate of food Louis offered him. He leaned back against the pillows, savoring the first bite of syrup soaked pancake while Louis looked on, almost fondly. 

“What?” Harry asked, and Louis looked away quickly. 

“Nothing, I just … It’s nice to see you happy. Relaxed. I thought for a moment there that you weren’t coming this morning.”

Harry didn’t want to mention that he almost hadn’t come, that Liam had dragged him out of bed with a promise of kicking his ass multiple times over if he flaked. He didn’t want to tell Louis that he’d cried himself to sleep and woken with eyes half swollen shut from his fear. But it seemed like Louis had guessed more than Harry thought. 

“I don’t want to pry, but you seemed almost … scared of doing this. And I didn’t want you to feel obligated. So seeing you smile, seeing the tension leave your shoulders, it’s nice.”

Harry felt a smile tugging at his mouth at that. “I appreciate that.”

A silence fell between them, but it was comfortable. They just sat there, Louis picking pieces off of Harry’s plate, and it felt horribly domestic. Harry loved that feeling. It had been so long since he’d felt it, and Louis was just so easy to be around. 

After they’d polished off the food and listened to enough oldies music to last Harry a lifetime, Louis got up and brushed his hands down his jeans. 

“Better get to sleep. Big day tomorrow, first day of tour!”

Harry felt himself pale slightly, the reality of what tomorrow was popping the bubble of contentment he’d been in. Louis’ eyes seemed to follow his loss of color, but again, he said nothing. He simply smiled and headed out on his own accord. Harry didn’t even have time to stand up to see him off before the door was closing behind him. 

“Bye, Louis,” Harry found himself whispering to the closed door. He sat back down on his now messy bed and pulled his laptop back toward him, opening up the pictures he’d taken of Louis at the airport earlier. He studied them, editing the lighting here and there, but one part - Louis’ eyes - needed no improvement. 

He didn’t want to sleep. He had struggled a lot with fearing sleep after Beau, and sometimes, he still did. It was the fear of not knowing what he’d wake up to that plagued him these days. And so Harry didn’t stop editing until he physically couldn’t keep his eyes open, and he was dragged into sleep. 

________

“Come on, H, it’s good. Makes your brain relax. You’ll like it.”

“Yeah, alright, but just for you.” 

Harry felt the pill placed on his tongue by Beau’s long, delicate fingers, and he closed his eyes, swallowing it dry. Liam and Beau were already splayed on their backs, staring up at the stars as though they were the most fascinating things in the world. Harry wanted to get there. He wanted to be where they were. And so he laid between them, watching as the stars danced and became brighter. 

“So pretty,” he said some time later, and distant laughter echoed.

Harry sat bolt upright in bed, covered in sweat, his heart racing far past its normal rate. He looked around the room frantically and, finding himself alone, slumped back against the headboard of the bed, tears of relief spilling onto his cheeks. 

He should have taken melatonin or something, he knew that now. Of course dreams of Beau would haunt him the night before he was entering the scene he swore never to return to. What had he expected? He just hoped he hadn’t cried out. He couldn’t deal with having to explain this to anyone. 

He sat there for a while longer, trying to calm his breathing. He still had several hours before they were due downstairs to head to the venue, and the more he thought about it, the more he realized that he just needed to run off his nerves. He got up and dressed in the dark, heading downstairs and out into the chilly morning air, breathing it in and feeling the burn in his lungs. He had a map pulled up on his phone and followed the road he wanted to run on with his finger a few times before starting out at a light jog. No one seemed to be out at this time of day, which was a relief. Harry really needed to just be alone with nature. 

By the time he made his way back to the front of the hotel, Harry was panting hard, sweat making a trail down the middle of his back. He wasn’t sure if he truly felt refreshed, but he’d done it and that’s what mattered. 

He waited for the lift and it opened to reveal Oli and Louis, sleep rumpled and bleary-eyed. Louis’ face lit up upon making eye contact with Harry, and Harry felt immediately mortified. He was sticky and his hair must have been a frizzy disaster, and before he could even berate himself for worrying about how he looked, Louis smiled. 

“Morning, Harry.”

“Good morning,” Harry offered back, looking over at Oli who looked two seconds away from falling asleep on Louis’ shoulder. “What are you guys doing up?”

“Louis was too excited to sleep. But I can guarantee you’ll never see him out of bed before noon after today,” Oli grumbled, and Harry chuckled softly. He’d gotten to know Oli fairly well, or as well as he could, in their car ride the next morning, and he could see why Louis spent so much time with him. They were very alike. 

“Right. Well, I’m going to just …” Harry indicated his head towards the lift, which he’d been holding open, and they went their separate ways. Harry spent the entire lift ride and the walk down to his room thinking about Louis. 

His hair had been sticking up at all kinds of odd angles, and his eyes, though half closed, were as bright as ever. His skin looked pleasantly flushed and so soft, and Harry wondered if it was as soft as it looked.

He turned on his shower and let the bathroom fill with steam as he argued with himself. 

You need to get a fucking grip. He’s technically your boss.

Yeah, but he’s so …

So nothing. You’re just lonely and looking for the first half decent guy who might want to fuck you.

I don’t want him to fuck me. I don’t.

It went on like this as Harry stepped into the shower, but try as he might, Louis remained a permanent fixture on his mind. It distracted him about what was to come that day, though, and he found himself longing for that petty argument when he finally sat down on his bed, staring at his suitcase and realizing he had to pick an outfit for tonight, for the concert. The concert that he was photographing. He, Harry Styles, was making his return to tour photography. Fuck. 

Harry reached for his suitcase and pulled it towards him, unzipping a small inner pocket that was meant for passports and things of that nature. Inside was one very old, very creased photo. He unfolded it and stared down at Beau’s face. 

Beau had been a very handsome man, Harry had to admit that. Though Harry had never felt like that for him, it was a fact. His brown eyes held depth, warmth, like twin circles of melted chocolate flecked with gold, and his honey blonde hair flopped over his forehead seemingly carelessly, though Harry knew it had been anything but. Beau had been obsessed with his hair and getting it to lay just right. 

Harry knew that his work with Beau was what gave him the career he had, and he used to tell anyone who praised him or his work that without Beau, he’d be nothing. Beau had seen something in him, a 19 year old kid with a battered old camera and an eye for lighting, and used his pull in the industry to give Harry the chance of a lifetime. Harry would never forget that as long as he lived. 

But he’d gotten himself into a headspace that Beau was what made him good. That his connection to the pop star was what gifted him with his abilities, and it had taken several sessions with his therapist to get to a point where he recognized his own talent as a separate entity from Beau’s. That’s why it had been so hard for him to take pictures - he’d lost his motivation, his reason for any of it. 

To come back to it in such a big way was jarring, even though he’d agreed to it and knew he was doing the right thing for himself. But it was still terrifying to think that in just a few hours he’d be back in a venue, surrounded by crew members and soundchecks and lighting. He hadn’t been to a concert since Beau’s death, and he was scared that being in a venue might trigger some unknown trauma. Louis didn’t deserve that. 

“God, shut up ,” Harry said out loud, trying to quiet his brain. He folded the picture back up and thrust it back into the pocket, unable to look at it for a minute longer. He yanked out a pair of black skinny jeans with holes in the knees and a plain white t-shirt and pulled them on. Standing there with bare feet, he surveyed the shoes he’d brought, and settled on a tan pair of boots. He’d go so far as to call them his lucky boots. Maybe wearing them would keep him from having a breakdown.

He tugged on socks and the boots and then went into the bathroom to brush his teeth. He stared at himself in the mirror. His hair was damp and curling around his ears, almost touching his shoulders now. His eyes were ringed with dark circles and he looked a little paler than he usually was, but on the whole, he looked ready. He felt ready, mostly. But no matter what, he had no choice. 

Making his way back to the main room, he packed up his things so he’d be ready to go when the time came. Just as he was zipping the final zipper, his phone rang, and, seeing it was Liam, he picked up. 

“Hey.”

“Hey, H. I just wanted to check on you. I know today is a big day.”

Harry swallowed hard. Hearing Liam say it made his anxiety spike. “I’m trying not to think about it.”

“You’re going to be great. I know it. Just take things slow. As long as Louis has one good picture to post from this show, you’re golden.”

Harry nodded before remembering that Liam couldn't actually see him. “Right. You’re right. I just … I want to do this, Li. I want to be here.” He wasn’t sure if he was saying these things for himself or for Liam, but he said them anyway. 

“I know you do. I could tell when you left that you were excited. This is what you’re meant to do.” Liam paused, and then said, “Besides, if you need me, I’ll probably join you in a few stops.”

Harry smirked. “Oh I know you aren’t coming for me. You just want to make out with Oli.”

“That’s … neither here nor there,” Liam said dismissively. “But seriously, H. I’m always here if you need me. Call me and I’ll be there.”

“Thanks, Li. I think … I needed to hear that.” There was a knock on his door and Harry looked up. “Gotta go. I’ll … text you after?”

“Sure. I’ll be up. Go on then. And have fun.”

Harry hung up, stuffed his phone in his pocket, and crossed the room to open the door. Oli stood there, looking far more awake than he had an hour or so ago. 

“Hey. Lou sent me to grab you - we’re heading to the venue early so we can get the lay of everything and do a decent soundcheck. He wants pictures of that, if that’s alright with you.”

“Umm, yeah. Let me just grab my stuff …”

Harry hurried back across his room, slinging his camera bag over his shoulder and grabbing a coat and his suitcase. All the nervous energy he’d run off that morning was back, buzzing through his veins with a mixture of excitement and pure terror. 

He exited his room and pulled on his jacket, resituating his camera bag, and followed Oli down the hallway. 

“I’m really glad he picked you, you know?” Oli said as the lift carried them down to the main level. 

“What?” Harry asked.

“I mean … I liked Zayn alright, but his pictures are nothing like yours. He likes to do this editing thing that I actually despise, and I think Louis was just too nice to say anything during the first tour.”

Harry pressed his lips together, trying to suppress a grin. He’d seen those pictures and, in his professional opinion, they could have been better. “I’m honored he gave me the opportunity,” he replied, trying to come off as diplomatic as possible, but Oli was eyeing him. 

“Come on, mate. You had to have seen them. Tell me … they were shit, right?”

“I … I mean, they weren’t the worst photos I’ve ever seen,” Harry began, and Oli grinned, which had him smiling too. “But they weren’t my favorite.”

“Knew it. Yours are so much better. I’m just grateful Liam sent me your profile cause without that, god only knows what kind of fucked up mess we’d be in right now.” Oli ran a hand through his hair as the lift doors opened, and Harry followed him out. Michael and Matt were already standing there, and they made to join them.

“I’m glad Liam met you. He seems really happy, and it’s … he’s been through some shit, so I only ever want the best for him.” Harry blurted, and Oli looked at him steadily. “What I’m trying to say is … you’re good for him.”

“Mate, that’s the most I’ve ever heard you say at once,” Oli said with a laugh, and Harry blushed furiously. “I’ve never … liked a guy before, but Liam is different. He’s sweet and really hot … you know that, though,” Oli admitted, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment. “I’ll do right by him, Harry. I promise.”

Harry felt warmth bloom in his chest at that and couldn’t help but smile. “I know.”

“Alright, lads, ready to be off?” came a loud voice, and Harry turned to see Louis striding across the space with the rest of the band and Joni in tow. There was a murmur of ascent and they all headed out where a few cars were waiting to take them over. Harry stood there, not sure which car he was meant to get in, but then he felt a hand on his elbow and Louis was steering him towards the middle one. 

Harry let himself be led and he climbed into the car, closely followed by Louis and Oli, and Joni slid into the front seat. 

“JD said he’d meet us at the venue, so he should be there to get us in,” Joni said over his shoulder and Louis nodded, buckling himself in and bouncing in his seat. 

“Lou, mate, you’re gonna lose all your energy before tonight if you don’t calm the fuck down,” Oli said, and Louis rolled his eyes.

“Can’t help it. I’m just so ready to be back on tour. The lights, the people, the adrenaline, all of it,” Louis said, his voice dripping with emotion. Harry felt his stomach lurch uncomfortably, but he couldn’t help the pleasure he felt hearing how Louis talked about touring and performing. “You ready to go, Harold?”

Harry started, surprised that the conversation suddenly included him. “Umm … yes?”

Louis laughed. “You’re ready, I know it. I can see it on your face.” He took several breaths and then leveled Harry with his piercing blue stare. “Seriously, though, I’ll try to remain calm, but it’s a bit chaotic the first show. I’m sure … I’m sure you know that,” Louis trailed off, looking a bit sheepish. Harry tried not to betray the fact that his heart was in his throat right now. Obviously Louis knew he’d been on tours before. He wouldn’t have put it past Louis to look him up after they met the first time. But still - brushing up against his past so closely was … a lot. 

“Yeah, I do,” Harry managed to say, his jaw tight. Louis didn’t press him anymore, instead opting to point out random things out the window to Oli. Harry sat back in his seat, taking as deep of breaths as he could without arousing suspicion. He just kept repeating what Liam had said to him, his hands so tight on the strap of his camera bag that his knuckles were turning white. 

As they approached the final turn, Harry pulled his camera from his bag and looped the strap around his neck. This was it. He could do this. 

“We’re here! There are a few fans, so let me get out first,” Joni said, and as Harry brought himself back out of his head, he could hear the murmur of voices, some of which turned to screams as Joni stepped out of the car. 

Harry watched him make his way around the car, meeting up with a man almost twice his size. That must be JD, Harry thought as the two men shook hands. Then Joni was reaching for the door, and Louis was stepping out. 

Oli followed and Harry came after, pulling himself out and then readying his camera. Louis was already walking past his fans, waving and smiling, but Joni and JD were herding him away. Harry decided to focus on the fans, snapping pictures of them holding each other, of them crying as Louis passed them, and even of one or two with pride flags of varying colors wrapped around their shoulders. 

Only when he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder did he realize that Louis had already gone inside, as had the band, and Oli was the only one left. It was nice of him to wait, Harry thought as he hurried after the redhead and into the cool interior of the venue. 

When the doors closed behind him, a muffled silence greeted his ears, and he felt his heart speed up. He valiantly ignored it and followed Oli through the dim corridors and through the labyrinth of hallways to the dressing rooms. 

“You can hang out here if you want - it’s Louis’ but I’m sure he won’t mind,” Oli offered. “Or I can take you to the stage so you can get some pictures of soundcheck.”

Harry nodded stiffly at the latter, knowing that he’d much rather deal with a panic attack now when there were no fans around than later when he was meant to be doing his fucking job. Oli smiled and gestured out the door, and Harry, feeling the bile rising in his throat, followed him. His hands were shaking by the time they reached the door that led to the stage, and he was about three seconds from throwing up his meager breakfast. 

“You wait till you see this,” Oli said, seemingly completely oblivious to Harry’s struggle, and Harry swallowed down his fear, walking up the stairs and emerging onto the stage. Louis was standing in the middle of it turning slowly to survey the room, and he grinned as he spotted them. 

“Looks great, right?” Louis said as he came over to them, his eyes alight and his cheeks flushed with his giddiness. Oli clapped him on the shoulder and grinned, walking out to take it in himself, but Harry found himself rooted to the spot. He felt like there wasn’t enough air in the room. 

“Harry, you alright?” Louis said, his smile slipping slightly, and Harry tried to nod, but it was more a jerk of his head. His mind was racing, scenes from his shows with Beau flashing before his eyes. 

“I … I just need a minute,” he said, his own voice sounding far away, but despite wanting nothing more than to leave, he couldn’t make himself move. Louis hesitated before moving away towards Oli, his grin returning as he looked out to where the crowd would be. 

Harry closed his eyes, but that made everything worse. He could hear Beau’s excited laughter in his mind, see his manic grin as he flipped his hair out of his eyes. It was so much. He didn’t think it would be this bad. But he could do nothing except stand there, being bombarded by his past. 

____________

L.

Louis was concerned about Harry. 

It wasn’t him being paranoid, of that he was sure. But Harry’s face as he beheld the stage showed nothing but terror, and he’d disappeared back to the dressing rooms with Oli before Louis had had a chance to talk to him. 

When Louis arrived in his dressing room later, however, Harry looked perfectly normal as he clicked a few buttons on his camera, scrolling and deleting. Louis should have said something, but Krystle had come bustling in then, and it had been crazy from there. 

Louis had been hustled from wardrobe and hair to the instrumental soundcheck, where he moved around the venue, making sure every section could hear everything. And then it was time for his soundcheck with the band, where they ran through the opening and closing numbers and a couple of other areas in songs that Louis wanted to nail down just one more time. 

All the while, Louis could almost feel Harry’s presence on the side of the room, and he thought he could hear the shutter clicking in the rare moments of total silence. But Harry wasn’t like Zayn had been at all. Zayn had wandered the stage, weaving in and out of them as he took pictures. Harry seemed content to stay as far away as he could, and Louis could only hope that he was feeling alright, that he was getting what he needed and they weren’t making him feel alienated. 

It was all that and the fact that Louis knew how hard it must be for Harry to stand here in a venue, taking pictures of another artist, after what happened with Beau Nelson. He had half a mind to call Liam just to make sure everything was ok - Liam would probably know more than Louis would ever know about how to read Harry. But he didn’t want to cross any lines. 

Finally, the toast before the show while the opener was on stage was upon him, and Louis smoothed his hand down the front of his shirt, taking the cup of amber liquid that Matt handed him. He looked over to see Harry, his camera up to his face, and stuck his tongue out, widening his eyes. Harry lowered the camera enough for Louis to see the smirk on his face and he turned back to his band, holding his cup in the air. 

“To the first night of tour! Let’s get out there and smash it, yeah?”

They all cheered and Louis basked in it, listening to the crowd cheer on the opener as he drank. He heard the pre show music track click back on and he put his now empty cup down, bouncing up and down on his toes. The adrenaline was coursing through him, and though his stomach was knotted with nerves, he relished the feeling. He loved being out there with his fans and he knew the moment he saw them, all of that would disappear and turn into pure happiness. 

The band hustled around, going out to set up their instruments and test them, and Louis was handed his battery pack and in-ears by one of the tech people. Niall came up to him then, putting his hands on Louis’ shoulders. 

“This is it, Tommo. You ready?”

Louis nodded. “More than.”

Niall looked over his shoulder at where Louis knew Harry was standing, and then back to Louis. “How’s Harry doing?”

“I think he’s excited,” Louis said, and it was mostly true. He did truly believe that Harry wanted to be here, but he had noted his moments of hesitation. Niall didn’t need to know that, though. 

“Good, good. Still can’t believe we pulled this off,” Niall said with a sigh, and Louis had to agree. Last week, they’d been scrambling, but here they were. 

The lights dropped and the fans screamed, the sound echoing around the room. Niall winked at him and hurried off to assist someone. Louis turned towards the stairs at the back of the stage, the lights nearly blinding him as he prepared himself, pushing on his in-ears to make sure they were in and ready. Harry stood there, his eyes wide and his shoulders set, his camera in his hands. 

“You ready, Styles?” Louis yelled over the noise, and Harry’s eyes found his. They were bright, alive, and Louis smiled shamelessly. He didn’t need a verbal answer to know. 

The opening chords to We Made It rang through the venue, and Louis took in a deep breath before climbing the stairs and walking out to his fans. 

________

Louis was quite literally buzzing as he bounded off stage, sweaty and ecstatic. It had been a great show, one of the best he’d ever had. The crowd had been so fucking loud that he could hear them over the click track. 

His band followed him off and they all piled together at the back, slapping each other’s backs and yelling in their excitement. Louis had no idea where Harry was, but he hoped he was getting this, because moments like this made for great pictures. 

They were ushered towards the band’s dressing room as the crew immediately began their breakdown of the stage, and Louis’ first instinct was to pour everyone a shot, which he did, alcohol spilling onto the floor as they all crashed their shots together and downed them. 

“That was fucking mental,” Steve said, taking the bottle of tequila from Louis and pouring himself some more.

“They were so loud, it’s insane,” Michael added. “I think they really like that guitar solo in Copy of a Copy.

“They really adore you, Lou, the way they looked at you?” Matt said, and Zak nodded in agreement. 

“This calls for some of my special stock,” Isaac said, pulling two blunts from his bag, and Louis tilted his head back in happiness. He really could use a good hit right now. He had so much energy. 

Weed was passed around and more drinks appeared as if from nowhere, until they had a bunch of empty or half filled cups sitting on all the surfaces, smoke lingering in the air. Louis loved this part of the show - the aftermath where they could just praise the shit out of each other and bask in the epic proportions of what they did. Louis had never felt more at home. 

It was as Louis was finally handed the blunt that Oli made his way through the crowd of men, his face concerned. 

“What’s up?” Louis asked, and Oli’s eyebrows scrunched together. 

“Lou, I think something’s wrong,”he said, and Louis looked around. 

“What do you …” Louis began, but Oli nodded over to Harry, and Louis saw at once. Harry was standing so still he might have been a statue. His face was bone white, and his chest seemed to be rising and falling with a rapidity that was not natural. His camera lay forgotten against his chest as he seemed to press himself as far into the wall as possible. “Oh. Did he say …”

“Nah, I just noticed that he seemed to be hanging back and then Matt offered him the weed and he … shut down? I don’t know what’s wrong.”

“Just … cover for me, right? I’ll see what I can do,” Louis whispered harshly, shoving the blunt into Oli’s hands and leaving alone as he approached Harry carefully. 

“Harry?” he said, but Harry didn’t even seem to notice that he was there. Louis tried again. “Hey, H. Look at me.” Louis’ voice had dropped in his seriousness, and Harry turned his gaze to Louis’ own. His green eyes were glassy and far away. Louis knew immediately that something was seriously wrong. “Do you want me to take you somewhere? Tell me what you need.”

Harry seemed to struggle then. His jaw worked, grinding together as though attempting to say words that wouldn’t come to him. He looked like he might be sick or pass out or both.  

“Away … I can’t …” Harry whispered, his voice breaking, and Louis moved into action.

“Come on. Walk with me.”

Louis touched Harry’s wrist, wrapping his fingers around it, and though Harry flinched at the contact, he didn’t pull away. Louis had to get him out of here before anyone noticed. 

Louis knew that Harry wasn’t all with him as he led him carefully towards his dressing room. He smiled at the people he passed, hoping everything looked normal. 

When they finally made it, Louis pulled Harry inside and closed the door behind him, locking it. Harry’s cheeks had tear tracks lining them and his skin was milky white. His hand was shaking where Louis held it. 

“Here. Sit down, that’s it,” Louis said as kindly as he could, leading Harry to a chair. Harry sat so slowly, his eyes darting frantically around the room. Louis didn’t know what to do. 

He knew this would be hard for Harry, but he hadn’t expected this. And even now, he still didn’t want to tell Harry what he knew, what he’d guessed about his past experiences. All he wanted was for Harry to be able to relax. 

“Harry? Can you tell me what you need? What can I do?” Louis prompted, crouching down in front of Harry and taking his hand. Harry’s hand jerked in his, and Louis let go at once. “Right, no touching. Got it.”

“I’m s-sorry,” Harry stuttered, his voice hardly more than a whisper. “I … I’m fine.”

Louis looked up at him. “H. You’re not fine. And it’s ok to not be fine, but I need you to help me help you. What do you need?”

Harry just shook his head, clearly trying to breathe through his panic. Louis felt completely helpless and he stood up, his arms hanging at his sides, wishing he knew how to help him. 

It was then, in the silence that fell between them, that Harry reached for Louis, and from his position on the chair, pulled Louis into a hug, his face pressed against Louis’ chest. Louis sucked in a breath and put his hands on Harry’s back as best he could, holding Harry as his body shook with harsh breaths. 

“It’s alright, Harry. You’re safe. I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere,” Louis murmured these words over and over, hoping that they were helping. The fact that Harry had reached for him, when moments before he’d been trying to get away meant something to Louis, and he stayed where he was, running his fingers gently up and down Harry’s upper back until Harry’s tears subsided and he pulled away, not looking at Louis. 

“I’m so sorry,” Harry said, his voice rough and deep.

“You have nothing to be sorry for. Everyone gets overwhelmed. I’m not here to judge,” Louis said, crouching back down to get on Harry’s level. “Is there anything I can get you?”

Harry pointed wordlessly at the water bottles sitting on the counter, and Louis was up in an instant, bringing him one. Harry gulped down half of it in two swallows, some semblance of color returning to his face. Louis waited until he’d finished before he spoke. 

“I … I’m not going to ask you what happened, because it’s not my business, really, but … I want you to feel safe. And I don’t think you felt that out there. And if you need to talk about it, I’m here.” Louis sounded like an idiot to his own ears, his words coming off empty, but Harry looked up at him with such trust in his eyes, tears still clinging to his eyelashes. 

“It’s just … I haven’t been in this environment. In a while.” Louis watched Harry’s throat bob with a visible gulp. “The … the drinks and the …”

Louis didn’t say anything to that. He didn’t quite understand it - alcohol and weed were normal parts of this life, of Louis’ life. He did them both recreationally and never had a problem. It wasn’t like he was doing hard stuff. But it bothered Harry, and Louis hated that. 

“I’m sorry if that … put you off. It was never my intention. You don’t have to be in there with them if you don’t want to.”

“I want … I want to be friends with everyone. But I can’t do … I can’t be a part of that,” Harry’s voice was properly shaking now, and Louis put a hand on his shoulder. 

“You don’t have to explain. Just come to me next time, yeah?”

Harry pressed his lips together in a tight line and nodded once, curling in on himself in the chair. It was clear he wanted to be alone, but Louis didn’t want to leave him in this state. 

“D’ya want me to stay?”

Harry’s hair bounced with the vigorous shake of his head. “No. No. You go back out. Have fun. I’ll just get … I’ll clean up in here.”

Louis stared at Harry as he stood up and started to move around the room, picking up things at random. But Harry had made it clear that he wanted to be alone, so Louis did as he was asked, closing the door quietly behind him and heading back towards the noise of their post concert party.

“He alright?” Oli asked when Louis edged back into the room, handing Louis back the joint he’d almost had a taste of earlier. Louis took a long drag. 

“I don’t even know. I did my best. It’s just … I found out some stuff about him before we left on tour and I don’t think he wants anyone to know, and he doesn’t know that I know, and I know it’s hurting him …” Louis was rambling now, the high of weed going right to his head.

“If you want, we can talk about it later? Liam mentioned something to me as well, so maybe we can help Harry without having to resort to anything that might upset him.”

“God, what would I do without you?” Louis asked, throwing his arm over Oli’s shoulders and moving back into the crowd of men. But no matter how many drinks he had or how many hits he breathed through his lungs, Harry was never far from his mind.

And when they finally cleared up and were to head out to the cars to be driven to the airport, somewhere around 1 in the morning, Louis caught sight of Harry’s swollen eyes and his false half smile and his heart broke for this man, this person he barely knew. And there was nothing, for now, that he could do about it. 

________

“Louis … wake up,” a voice whispered in Louis’ ear, and Louis jolted from a dream of nothing, his eyes flying open. His head gave a throb and he groaned. 

They’d arrived at the airport early and been granted access to some sleep rooms, something new they were trying to implement, and Louis had taken full advantage, the adrenaline from the show long gone and the fuzziness that came with smoking reaching its peak. He’d fallen into a soft bed and been taken immediately by sleep. 

“What … the fuck …” Louis grumbled, sitting up and making an unpleasant noise as his stomach rolled. 

“We’re gonna board soon,” Harry said quietly, taking a step back from Louis. Louis stared at him, unblinking. Harry’s long hair was half tied up in a teeny little top knot, curls escaping from it around his temples. His cheeks were pleasantly flushed and his eyes, though tired, were bright and beautiful. His lips were a sinful shade of berry pink and Louis had a moment, just a moment, where he wondered what they would feel like on his. Those lips were turned up in a smirk now, any trace of his breakdown from the night before gone. “Oli’s right - you really aren’t a morning person.”

“Shut up and get me a sandwich,” Louis grumbled, pulling himself out of the bed and trying to make his hair lie flat as he followed Harry to the rest of the group. 

“Wow, you managed to get him up without suffering physical damage. We’re sending you from now on, Harry,” Isaac said with a snort as Louis approached them. 

“I can hear you, you know,” Louis said, and they all laughed. 

“Yeah, s’why I said what I said,” Isaac shot back, and Harry let out a bark-like laugh that echoed around the nearly deserted airport. Louis looked up at him as Harry clamped a hand over his mouth. 

“Harry, I quite honestly didn’t know any human could make a noise like that,” Louis said, and Harry lowered his hand, his cheeks rosy, but his smile still intact. 

“Alright, let’s get moving. We’re on the buses after this flight, so enjoy your space while you can,” Michael said, which roused another laugh from the group, and they were off. 

Louis was asleep the moment the plane leveled off in the air, curled up in his seat like a child. He didn’t wake until a faint announcement came over the speakers that they were beginning their descent. Louis sat up and rubbed his eyes, and then he noticed a black lens peeking over the back of his seat. 

“Harry, I swear to god if you’re taking pictures right now, I may have to fight you,” Louis mumbled, pulling himself up so he could see Harry’s sheepish grin appear where the camera had once been. 

“You said you wanted behind the scenes, and I … didn’t get any last night, so …” Harry trailed off. Louis felt suddenly guilty. 

“As long as I’m not drooling, I’ll allow it this time,” he responded, and Harry’s dimple appeared. Louis sat back in his seat with a smug smile. He knew Harry must be putting on a brave front this morning, but Louis liked it. He felt like he was seeing a little more of the Harry Styles he’d heard so much about during his early career, and he wanted more. 

The next hour or so was a rush of activity, of getting off the plane and rescuing their bags and getting out to the buses that were waiting for them. Harry was clutching his camera and laptop bags to him like lifelines and Louis could only imagine the work Harry wanted to do once they were on their bus. 

He bid farewell to his bandmates who climbed onto their two buses and made his way up the stairs into his makeshift home for the next month. It was just as he liked it - tinted windows with light, airy decorations and colors, so he could feel like he was home. The bunks were made up to their specifications, and the temperature was perfect. Louis wasn’t a needy, demanding celebrity by any means, but if he was meant to live on a bus, he did have some things he was particular about. 

Harry came in behind him, setting his stuff down on the built in sofa and rubbing at his eyes. It was then that Louis realized how tired Harry must be, and how tired he still was. Thank god he didn’t have a show tonight. 

“H, I’m gonna take a kip - you’re welcome to as well. Went a little overboard last night, I guess,” Louis admitted, running a hand over his face in a pathetic attempt to wake himself up a little. 

“I get it,” Harry said, and though his face remained kind and sympathetic, Louis could hear a hardness to his voice, like he knew very well and hated that he knew it. “Might just do some editing. Did you want to post after every show?”

“Dunno. I’ll decide later. Just wanna sleep,” Louis muttered, grabbing his bag and pulling out some loose grey joggers and a t-shirt and stripping off his clothes from the night before. Once he felt more comfortable, he pulled himself up onto his bunk fully clothed and buried his face in his pillow. Sleep took him quickly. 

____________

H.

Harry had settled himself on the sofa, his camera plugged into his laptop as he sifted through the pictures he’d taken the night before. 

In all honesty, he didn’t really understand what was happening inside him right now. Last night had been nothing short of a disaster. First the near panic when he saw the stage, which then transitioned to the excitement of being at a gig, and then the true panic when Michael, bless him, had handed him weed.

It wasn’t that he wasn’t used to that kind of stuff - it was that he was far too used to it. He’d sworn off drinking and any kind of drugs after Beau. It had been what killed him - the multitude of drugs he’d taken over the course of the day, which Harry hadn’t even noticed, and being high enough that he didn’t remember his friend dying feet away from him. 

When Louis had left him in the dressing room, he’d cried his eyes out, even as he cleared up the room and packed up the things that were theirs just for something to do. His eyes and his throat had actually hurt from how hard he’d cried. 

But then, somewhere between that moment and the moment he’d woken up at the airport and been sent to fetch a very sleepy, very grumpy Louis, his brain had seemed to flip off the part of him that wanted to fall into the depressing darkness that usually came with anything even slightly related to Beau. It was nice to do banter with Louis. It was nice to laugh with the band. It reminded him so much of being on tour before, which he had loved. Somehow, he’d convinced his own brain to shut the hell up for once, and it felt liberating. 

But of course, he questioned that, because he’d been in therapy for a little over a year and had never been able to reach this point. He would take one step forward and three steps back almost every week. He knew that his therapist would probably call whatever he was doing suppression or disassociation or something, but no matter what it was, he selfishly wanted things to stay this way. So he was free to do his job, to enjoy himself, to admire Louis, even if it was from afar and he berated himself every step of the way where those feelings were concerned. 

Because yes, he had feelings for Louis. There was no point denying it. He hadn’t been sure before, thinking that maybe it was just him needing a subject of admiration, and Louis just happened to be there for him to fixate on, but last night had changed everything. 

Last night, Louis had noticed that something was wrong, had gotten him out of there before he could make a ridiculous fool out of himself. He’d stayed even when he didn’t have to, trying to get through to him. And even though he’d smelled like weed and alcohol, the very things Harry had wanted to escape, Harry had reached for him. As he’d let his head rest on Louis’ chest, as Louis rubbed up and down his back and spoken those words to him, it hit him like a fucking ton of bricks.

Now, no matter what, every time he caught sight of Louis, his heart skipped a beat. All of the things he’d forced himself not to think about before were on a running commentary in his head: Louis has really beautiful eyes. I like how his eyes crinkle when he smiles. He’s so kind. His mouth looks so kissable. 

It hadn’t helped at all that Louis seemed to have no care in the world for Harry seeing him practically naked. He’d taken off his clothes right in front of him without a second thought, and Harry had tried very hard not to stare at the swell of his ass in tight black boxers. 

Over and over again, Harry thought about these things, and editing pictures of him only made his feelings more apparent. But he did it anyway, wanting Louis to have plenty to choose from, and wanting to do a damn good job for Louis and his band. They deserved that. 

As the bus rolled along, traveling to their next destination Harry worked in the relative silence, savoring it. He loved that, right now, his mind wasn’t teeming with past memories. He could just do the thing he loved. 

It was a few hours into their trip that Louis woke up, and Harry tried - and failed - not to stare at his soft sleepy smile as he emerged from his bunk and shuffled towards him.

“You still working?” Louis asked as he curled up on the other end of the small sofa, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. 

“Yeah. I finished a bunch,” Harry said, and that had Louis immediately scooting into his space, peering over his shoulder. Harry’s breath caught in his chest as Louis’ hair tickled the side of his face. 

“Show me, then,” Louis said softly, and Harry obliged, opening a folder marked LTWTN1. He scrolled through the pictures slowly, letting Louis look his fill and ignoring the warmth of Louis’ body pressed up against his side as best he could. 

“Harry, have I ever told you how fucking talented you are?” Louis said when they reached the end, and Harry knew he was blushing. 

“I’m sure you have, but I wouldn’t mind hearing it more.”

“Cheeky, Styles. I like it,” Louis said with a laugh. Harry swore his dick twitched at that sound, and he bit down hard on his own tongue.

“Not cheeky, just honest,” Harry offered in reply.

“Right. So. Gonna show me how this all works, then? Or do you wanna play me in a round of FIFA? Your choice.”

God, Louis’ eyes were so blue. Harry really wanted to just lean in and kiss him. He shook himself mentally. 

“I’m almost done, but maybe after the next show, I can show you?”

Louis looked at him, his expression soft. “Yeah, H, I’d like that. FIFA it is then?”

Harry nodded, packing up his camera and his laptop and placing the bags tenderly on his own bunk before heading out to join Louis in front of the telly.

“I will warn you - I’m really good. Hard to beat most days,” Louis said, his voice muffled as he rooted around for the game and the controls. “You sure you’re up to the challenge?”

“Oli said you’d say that,” Harry muttered, and Louis rolled his eyes.

“Oh yeah? What else did Oli say?”

Harry bit down a grin. “That you’re not as good as you think and that the others let you win cause you’re a sore loser.” 

“Oli’s a fucking liar,” he shot back, and Harry, having no response to that other than one that might get him in trouble, kept his mouth shut as Louis triumphantly pulled out two controllers and flicked on the screen. 

In truth, Harry hadn’t ever once played FIFA in his life. He didn’t even know how to work the controller. He could edit a black and white picture to full color without even blinking, but he was useless at video games. Yet, he took the controller from Louis without even balking at it, holding it confidently.

It only took about ten minutes of play before Louis paused the game and turned in his swivel chair to face Harry. 

“You don’t know what the fuck you’re doing, do you?”

Harry shrugged. “Not really, no.”

Louis flung a pillow at him. “Then why did you let me go on like that?”

“Because you were happy.”

The words were out of his mouth before he could even think them through, and Louis stared at him, his lips parted slightly. Harry’s face was on fire and he turned away, pretending to be looking for something. How was he supposed to survive a month on this bus with just Louis without pouncing on him?

“I … thank you?” Louis said, the words sounding like a question to Harry’s ears, and now he felt like he had to explain, to clear the air before things got weird. 

“No, it’s just … this is your space and you should be happy in your space and I’m basically just invading it so I thought I’d just figure it out along the way … why are you laughing?”

Louis’ hand came up to his mouth, trying to cover his laughter. It was quite an endearing little move, the more traitorous part of Harry’s brain thought.

“You just … you surprise me, Styles. Every time I think I have you figured out, you do something that just kills me.”

Harry didn’t know how to feel about that. But Louis was already talking again before he could work it out. 

“But seriously, this is our space. We are sharing this space, and if you don’t want to do something, we don’t have to. I want you to feel like this is your home too, yeah?”

Harry nodded, his cheeks heating up once more. Damn, he needed to get that under control. “Yeah. Thanks, Lou.”

“So. No FIFA means a cheesy music channel and small talk, or so I’ve been told,” Louis said at once, turning off his gaming system and putting on a radio station at random. “Come on then, tell me about yourself.”

Harry looked around, as though Louis could possibly be talking to anyone but him. “I … I’m not that interesting.”

“Sure you are. Tell me something … how did you get into photography?”

Harry thought about that, unsure if he wanted to tell Louis the story he’d given everyone else in his life, with the exception of Beau and Liam, or if he wanted to tell him the truth. With Louis’ gaze on him, he settled with the truth. 

“It’s a pretty sad story, actually. See, my dad left us when I was about five. And he left a bunch of shit behind, you know how it is.” Louis’ eyes never left Harry’s face as he spoke. “One of the things was his camera. It had half a roll of film unused, so I just took pictures of everything at random until it ran out and then I got them developed.

When I got them back, my pictures were shit, but the ones he’d taken were so beautiful. They were of us, his family, and no matter how he treated us after that, I knew from those pictures that we’d been happy once. And I wanted to give that opportunity to other people. I wanted humans to see their lives as beautiful, as made up of moments of happiness and light. So I saved my pocket money and bought film for the camera, and took it with me everywhere. Pretty sure my mum has a picture of blonde little me at 6 trying to take a picture of a bee. It didn’t end well for me.”

Louis was smiling now. “You were blonde?”

Harry nodded. “Yeah, like super bright blonde. It turned to brown when I got older, but my mum always referred to me as her little angel.”

“That’s nice,” Louis mused.

“Yeah, it is. So yeah, I just kept using that camera until it no longer worked, and then my mum and sister bought me my first real one when I was 10 years old. By then I’d figured out that there were good times of day and good angles from which to take pictures, and it just went from there.”

Harry paused. The next part of the story was one he hadn’t really spoken of aloud to anyone in a while. Certainly not since Beau’s death. But Louis knew about him working for Beau, so he figured it would be alright. 

“Next thing I know, I’m out of school with no ideas other than wanting to do photography for a living. I was working at this little bakery at home and visiting my sister in London on the weekends to practice photography in busy environments. And I was in the park one day and this guy came up to me and asked if I did photography professionally. I told him no, but he just smiled and asked if I might take some pictures of him at a local gig he was doing.”

Harry looked up now, gaging Louis’ reaction, looking for any sign of recognition. But Louis was just looking on, fully invested in Harry’s story. 

“Turns out he was an up and coming songwriter, and he didn’t have a photographer or anyone to help him with promo. So we both kind of … figured it out along the way. And now I’m here.” Harry pulled his lip between two fingers nervously, waiting for Louis to respond. 

“Well, I guess I have your deadbeat dad and Beau Nelson to thank for your existence in my life,” Louis finally said, and Harry’s stomach flipped at hearing Beau’s name. But, for once, it didn’t cause the primal ache in Harry’s heart to hear someone talk about him. 

“Yeah, guess so,” Harry said, and Louis’ smile grew. 

“I’m forever in their debt, because I don’t know what I’d do without you.” He stopped and Harry just stared, and then Louis chuckled. “Wow, that sounds like I’m proper coming onto you, sorry.”

“No, it’s … it’s fine. It’s nice to hear things like that,” Harry mumbled, feeling warmth from his head all the way to his toes at Louis’ words. Louis shook his head, scratching the back of his neck. 

“I’m sorry, I … I’m so used to having to be so careful about how I speak. Sometimes it’s hard to remember that I can have a voice, that there are things I can say now, or feel, if I choose to.” 

Louis sounded wistful, almost sad, and Harry almost didn’t want to ask. 

“What do you mean?”

Louis looked at him once again, his eyes blazing now. “Come on, now, Harry, I'm sure you’ve heard the rumors going around about me for years.” He sat up a little straighter, worry clearly etched onto his face. He must not have talked about this much. “Everyone thinks I’m either fucking every girl I come into contact with or I’m so deep in the closet that it doesn’t even matter.”

“I … I never thought …” Harry tried to say, but Louis just waved him off. 

“They’re right, though. I’ve been struggling to come out for years. It’s the one hesitation I had when signing my contract back then - I couldn’t be out. I had to be their straight little puppet, and it’s … really hard when you’re trying to figure out who you are to be told that you can’t.”

Harry just sat there, his throat tight. Beau had never cared that Harry was bi, and had never told Harry that he needed to hide it, even when Beau was optioned for his record deal. But he knew the struggle all too well, and it hurt Harry’s heart to know that Louis was still in the midst of it. 

“I just really want to be part of what changes the industry,” Louis said, his voice hard now. “I want to show other artists that you can find a team that will support you, that you can be yourself … be gay.”

“Well, I’m really honored that you told me. That you’re gay, I mean.”

Louis’ eyes looked almost glassy as they looked up into Harry’s, and he gave a half smile. “Thanks, H. I … I don’t hide it, not really, but my last management team forced me to have a public girlfriend, and though all I really had to do was take pictures with her, it was really hard. It really fucked with my head. But now I might have a chance to go out, to experience that culture, to meet someone that I … that I trust with my feelings and my baggage.”

Harry couldn’t help the little voice in his head that whispered that could be you , and instead opted for reaching out to put his hand on Louis’. “You’ll find him, Lou. And he will love you for everything you are.”

Louis wiped his eyes harshly. “Alright, stop it now, don’t make me cry,” he said, his voice wobbling slightly. “We should talk about something else.”

“Well, you know all about my claim to fame sob story. Tell me yours.”

Louis chuckled. “Oh, my journey to being a musician started later than yours, by far. I was Danny Zuko in a school performance.”

“No way …” Harry said, sounding far more fond than he intended. Rein it in, Styles , he thought. “There’s pictures of that, right?”

Louis’ smirk was evident. “There’s videos, Harold.”

Harry curled himself into his chair and leaned closer to Louis. “Well, now you have to show me.”

Louis’ laugh echoed around the bus, and he pulled out his phone. 

________

The buses pulled into a back parking area near the venue, where Louis had said they would stay until the next day when the show went on. Harry watched as Louis practically sprinted off the bus, grateful for some freedom. Harry grabbed his camera and followed him, breathing in the fresh air and basking in the late afternoon sunlight. It was the perfect time for some photos too, the light hitting everything just right and turning the sky to gold - golden hour. 

The other band members were already off their buses, tossing around a frisbee with abandon. Harry lifted his camera to his face and snapped a picture of Louis launching himself into the fray, snatching the frisbee out of the air and landing none too gently on top of Zak, who just managed to keep them on their feet. 

Harry bit his lip before pulling the camera away and hitting the record button. It was a feature he’d rarely used, but he knew that this was one of those moments that Louis might want to remember through more than pictures. 

He weaved his way around, catching yells and swearing and spectacular catches and misses, and his heart felt light. These were the memories in the making that Harry loved to capture, and he laughed and ducked as the frisbee veered his way, zooming over his head and hitting the side of a bus. 

“Come on, Harry, come play with us,” Michael called, and Harry hesitated, but then he caught Louis’ eye, and he knew he had to. 

“Yeah, alright,” he said, swinging his camera strap over his head and handing it to JD, the larger bodyguard, who was standing back with the smallest of proud smiles on his face. He nodded to Harry, who nodded back and worked his way into the circle. He was certainly not dressed for this - he was still wearing his jeans and t-shirt and boots from the night before, not having had the time or the thought to change out of them. 

Louis had the frisbee now and he threw it to Harry far more gently than he had been before. Harry caught it easily, rolling his eyes. “Louis, I’m a big boy, I can play frisbee with the best of them.” He passed it on to Isaac, who had to jump pretty far off the ground to catch it, and Louis’ eyes sparkled with malice. 

“Fine then, Harold. Have it your way.”

Isaac passed to Steve, who passed to Matt, who reversed passed to Harry. Harry just managed to grab hold of it with the tips of his fingers and then passed it behind his back to Louis, who launched himself for it and missed. He ran to retrieve it and when he came back, his eyes were narrowed. 

“Fair play, Styles.”

The other band members oooooo ed lowly, and Harry, though only a tad nervous as to what Louis might have planned that everyone knew about but him, grinned. 

“Bring it, Tommo.”

“Oh, Harry, you’re so fucked, mate,” Oli said from the other side of the circle. 

“Louis hates to lose,” Michael said, and Harry looked at him incredulously. 

“It’s … passing a frisbee. There aren’t any winners,” he said, and Michael laughed. 

“It’s Louis. There’s always a winner, and it’s almost always him - look out!”

Harry ducked as the blue frisbee came flying at him from nowhere, and in his haste to keep his face intact, he tripped over his own boots and crashed to the ground. The laughter that surrounded him was friendly enough that he didn’t feel too embarrassed. 

Michael held out his hand and Harry took it, pulling himself back to his feet. “Told ya,” Michael said with a snicker, and Harry brushed off his jeans. He was not about to lose to Louis Tomlinson. His competitive streak, which had long since been buried, was coming to the surface now, and he settled himself into a ready stance, his eyes flicking to Louis once before following the frisbee around. 

________

In the end, Louis did “win”, and he celebrated his win by challenging Harry to a race. Harry tried to decline, but the other band members pushed him towards the made up starting line. 

“I’m wearing boots. Very well made boots,” Harry found himself complaining, but Louis just smirked. 

“Should have thought about that before,” he said, his face alive. Harry sighed, turning to face the end of the parking area. 

“Ready?” Oli called, and both Harry and Louis nodded in agreement.

“Three … two … one … GO!”

Harry stumbled on his first step and was already behind. Fucking hell, Louis was fast. He darted across the space and was halfway to the finish before Harry managed to take a few running steps.

Harry gave up running and simply walked to where Louis was standing, panting with a wide grin on his face. 

“Aww, cheer up, Harry, I’ll let you win next time,” Louis said when Harry reached him, patting him on the cheek fondly. Harry felt his skin heat up from Louis’ touch, but Louis was already gone, celebrating his second victory of the night. 

Harry made his way over to JD, who was smirking down at Harry’s camera screen. 

“Oh, god, please tell me you didn’t film all that,” Harry groaned, and JD smiled. 

“My daughter loves photography. I got her this exact camera for her birthday last year. I saw you filming a little earlier and I figured you might want some of you in the mix,” he offered. Harry usually hated himself on camera and would probably delete this footage, but he nodded in thanks to JD and took his camera back. 

“Alright, lads, who’s up for a drink on our bus?” Matt called, and the others cheered. Harry turned away from them then, not wanting them to see the paleness of his face as he headed away from the alcohol and to his bus, craving a little quiet. He hoped Louis wouldn’t follow him - it was nice that Louis wanted to spend time with him, but he deserved to live his life the way he wanted and have fun on his tour, and Harry refused to be the one that took that away from him. 

Alone on the bus, Harry finally took the opportunity to take a shower and change. The hot water felt massage-like on his shoulders, and the tension that had clawed its way back to him released. He washed his hair and only realized after that it was his usual brand and scent of shampoo and conditioner. How Louis had known, he didn’t know, but it didn’t do much to quell his growing affection for him. 

As he leaned his head back to rinse out the conditioner, his constant thoughts of Louis became much louder than they usually were. He was alone, he was a man with needs, and Louis was so fucking beautiful. He looked down at himself and saw his cock starting to fatten up just from the mere thought of wanking to Louis. But he couldn’t. He couldn't cross that line or he’d never come back. But he wanted to. It had been too long since he’d touched himself in general, and living with another man, especially someone as attractive to him as Louis, would probably result in a lot of unsavory situations.

Despite his hesitation, his dick was clearly not with the program. He was now almost fully hard, and with a sigh of resignation, Harry reached down and stroked himself. A choked moan seemed to echo off the walls of the small shower, and he bit down hard on his lip, his legs buckling as he thumbed over the head, spreading the precome and water down his shaft. 

“Fuck,” he bit out as he moved his hand faster, his mind focusing on Louis, mostly naked, his back turned to Harry. The muscles of his shoulders moving as he pulled on sweats over the skin tight material of his briefs. If Louis turned around, Harry knew he would be packing, and his mouth nearly watered as his hand moved faster still. 

Bracing himself against the wall of the shower, he leaned his head back as his hips bucked forward into his own hand, chasing the release that he was sure would come sooner rather than later. He couldn’t contain the noises that came out of his mouth, unfiltered. He’d never been one to be quiet in bed, and he hoped to any entity listening that Louis wouldn’t return for at least the next half hour. 

His balls tightened suddenly as his imagination ran wild and pictured Louis there, crammed into the small space with him, pulling himself off against Harry’s body. In his mind, Louis made the most beautiful, high pitched whimpers, and with a strangled groan, Harry was coming all over his hand, harder than he had in a long time. 

He closed his eyes and breathed his way through it, his hips stuttering and his hand still moving slowly, milking the come out of himself until he was spent and sensitive. He shuddered as he let go, the guilt already creeping in. How was he supposed to look Louis in the eye after this?

Turns out he didn’t have long to figure it out, because the moment he stepped out of the bathroom, one towel slung low on his hips and the other squeezing out the ends of his hair, the bus door opened and Louis stepped on, his eyes overbright, laughing at something someone said behind him. Harry had no time to run or hide or even reach for his clothes before Louis’ eyes were on him, and his face went curiously blank. 

“I, uh, was in the shower,” Harry said stupidly, fully aware that his towel was way too low, that his voice was way too deep. Louis didn’t say a word, he just stood there, staring at him. Harry backed down the small hallway to his bunk, snatching his clothes and sidling back into the bathroom. When he closed the door behind him, he thumped his head against it, repeatedly. Fuck, was he really about to get hard again just because Louis had been in his general vicinity?

He pulled on his briefs, some pajama pants, and an old tank top. He usually slept naked, but he’d packed accordingly when Louis had said they’d be sharing a bus. Coming back into the main area of the bus, he found Louis sitting in the same chair he’d been in all trip, spinning around like a child. It was as if the last three minutes had never happened. 

“Did you have a good time?” Harry asked, not sure how else to get past the awkwardness that hung in the air, which Louis seemed completely oblivious to. 

“Yeah, course. They always get the good shit,” Louis said airily, stopping his spinning to look at Harry. “Did you have a good shower?”

Harry’s cheeks blazed with color as he flashed back momentarily to the exact extent of the good time he’d had in the shower. “Yeah. Was fine.”

Louis stood up and moved into Harry’s space - he was much more buzzed than Harry had initially thought. “You look tired, Hazza.” His cold fingertips touched the skin under Harry’s eyes and Harry had to exercise every bit of his self control to not lean into his touch. “You should sleep.”

Harry shrugged. He was tired. He was exhausted, actually. Whatever his brain was doing to keep him happy and free of his torment was taking its toll on him. And for that reason, he was scared to sleep. Letting his guard down long enough to get rest could put him right back where he was last night, and he didn’t want to be there. He refused to be there. 

“I will, I … let’s get you in bed first,” Harry invented wildly, and Louis wilted against Harry, smiling in a goofy way that only alcohol could bring to his face. Harry knew it well. 

“Mmm, yeah, take me to bed, please. So sleepy.”

Harry found himself laughing quietly as he hauled Louis with him and deposited him unceremoniously onto his bunk, pulling a blanket over him. Thank god he was still wearing his comfortable clothes from earlier because Harry didn’t have the emotional strength to help him change. 

“Who usually does this for you?” Harry whispered as he tucked Louis in, and Louis turned his face to Harry, his eyes closed. 

“Usually end up sleeping on the floor. Never had someone take care of me like this …”

Before he could even finish his thought, Louis was asleep, his mouth slightly open. Harry felt a surge of fondness, and he closed the curtain that covered Louis’ bunk before he could do something stupid like kiss his forehead. 

Climbing into his own bunk, he pulled his duvet up to his chin, staring into the darkness of the space and listening to Louis’ breaths as he slept soundly. His heart was becoming attached, he could feel it. And against his better judgment, he wasn’t planning to do anything to stop that. 

When he tossed and turned for another ten minutes, he sighed and pulled out his phone. He’d downloaded a bunch of pictures to it earlier and Louis had picked his favorites, posting them to his Instagram. Harry went and scrolled through them, noting that Louis had tagged his bandmates but not Harry. The conversation they’d had came floating back to him. 

“Harry, do you mind if I post these to Insta?” Louis asked, and Harry looked up.

“No, go ahead.”

Louis bit his lip. “I was just asking because … usually I give credit to my photographer, but I … the page I found you on is for your landscape work and I figured you might want to keep that one to yourself? And I haven’t seen you post on your other page in a while.” 

He phrased it like a question, but Harry felt warmth bloom in his chest.

“You follow my other page?” 

“Well, yeah. Your pictures were the best of the best. Still are, if I do say so myself,” Louis said loftily. “But you don’t have to restart it or anything just for me. Whatever you want is fine.”

“I … I was thinking of posting some on my other … my old page. Maybe.”

Louis nodded, a kind smile on his face. “Well, if you do, let me know if you want me to tag you or anything.”

Harry switched from @hcaptures to @hestylespictures and chewed nervously on his lip as he navigated to his page. His follower count had, somehow, not dipped below the 739k he’d had two years ago. It was daunting, comparing that number to his other account. The last picture collection he’d posted had been from Beau’s last show. He didn’t remember posting it - he’d probably been high when he’d done it. His thumb hovered over Beau’s smiling face before he shook himself out of memories and clicked on the button to start a new post. He selected a few of the ones Louis had posted and some others and compiled them. 

Captions had never come naturally to him - on his other account, he would just post without and let the picture go where it would. But on this one, he felt he needed something good. Something that would be a bit of a comeback. Who knew if he’d continue doing tour photography after this leg of Louis’ tour, or at all? Even he wasn’t sure. But Beau had always waited to be the first to like his posts back in the day, and Louis deserved to be able to say who his photographer was. 

Harry closed his eyes, letting his mind wander for the right words, and then his thumbs were moving, typing out the words that would kickstart his return to tour photography, for better or for worse. 

@hestylespictures: And we’re on the road again @louist91 !!

____________

L.

Louis found himself settling into a pretty common routine as the next few shows passed. He’d wake up around noon, shower, and go right into soundchecks on the days he had shows. On the days he didn’t, he spent them outside, messing around with the band, or on Oli’s bus, playing video games. Harry followed him and the other band members around, his hands and eyes glued to his camera, but Louis liked knowing he was there. Sometimes, he’d even start his own conversations with the other lads. 

After each show, the lads gathered on one of the band buses for celebratory drinks, which Louis always participated in. But this was the only time of day that Harry never joined them. Louis never asked him to, and he’d become used to those hours of time without Harry. But the band was starting to notice now, and about a week and a half into tour, it came up in conversation. 

“Why doesn’t Harry ever hang out with us?” Matt said, puffing smoke rings into the air. 

“What do you mean? He’s with us all the time,” Louis said, being brought into the conversation by the mention of Harry’s name. That had been happening a lot lately - every time Harry was mentioned, Louis felt attuned to him. It didn’t help that he’d been having increasingly frequent dreams of Harry holding him, touching him, being with him. That had made for a lot of close calls on the bus when he’d had to get off in the small bathroom while not making any noise. 

“Nah, you know what I mean. Sure, he’s always there, clicking away, but …” Isaac mused, and Michael chimed in, finishing his sentence. 

“He doesn’t drink with us. He doesn’t go out partying when we have the chance.”

“He’s always on the bus,” Zak said. 

“He’s probably editing - Lou has been posting pictures for every show, that’s bound to take time. And he’s started up his photography Instagram, too,” Oli said, and Louis shot him a grateful look. 

“Yeah, I guess. I just feel like maybe he doesn’t like us?” Steve said, and the others nodded in agreement. Louis felt vaguely ill. He didn’t know how to tell them why Harry didn’t come without embarrassing Harry. But he had to try. 

“I know you lot are really close, with me and each other, and I love that,” Louis began, and all eyes moved to him. “But maybe what we aren’t considering is that Harry doesn’t really like or feel the need to drink, do weed or other drugs. Maybe it makes him uncomfortable.”

Oli shot him a look, and Louis’ mouth tightened in what was hopefully a good enough indication that they would talk about this later. They still hadn’t had a moment to discuss what might be in Harry’s past that would be affecting him here and now, and with every day that passed, despite Harry’s growing comfort with the band, he became slightly more worried. He was alone in this, and he knew Oli had spoken to Liam on a number of occasions, so he knew things too. But they weren’t united with that information, not yet, and he wanted to be. 

“I just thought since he’s been on tour before, even if he didn’t want to partake, that he’d be used to it,” Michael said, and again everyone was in agreement. Louis felt a spark of annoyance. 

“I don’t think he owes any of us an explanation for why he doesn’t want to be with us when we do these things, and I don’t like what you’re trying to insinuate.” Louis stood then. “I’m going to go check on him, and when the rest of you have decided to stop dissecting his decisions, you can come talk to me.”

Without another word, he stormed from the bus, breathing in the outside air in an attempt to calm his sudden surge of anger and protectiveness. He was halfway to his own bus, where he knew Harry was probably working away, when there was a hand on his arm, and he turned sharply to see Oli looking at him. 

“Lou, that was a bit harsh,” he said in lieu of greeting, and Louis huffed, coming to a stop.

“How can you say that, when they were sitting there not even considering the fact that …” Louis couldn’t finish, not knowing what he would even say that would make sense. 

“I know, Lou. Liam’s told me enough to clue me in, and I don’t know what you know about his past other than what’s been in the media, but he has every reason not to want to be around that stuff. But …” Oli said quickly, cutting off Louis’ retort, and Louis closed his mouth, waiting impatiently. “But they don’t know that. He hasn’t volunteered that information, so they’re just going off of what they see and feel. You can’t be angry with them for not knowing what Harry won’t tell them.”

Louis started walking again, just needing to release his energy. “I know I can’t. I’ll … I’ll apologize later, I just …” He stopped and looked at Oli. “He’s been doing so well. And I don’t want the others to start treating him differently. I’m afraid it might set him back in whatever he’s dealing with. Not that I even know what that is, fully.”

“I get it. And we really should talk about that, about what we know, just so we can be sure we know how to help him should anything go wrong.” Oli put a hand on Louis’ arm, and Louis felt himself relax slightly. “But I don’t think you’re upset just because of that.”

The way Oli was looking at him, Louis knew what he was going to say. 

“Don’t.”

“Louis, you can’t hide shit from me. I know how you act when you have feelings for someone, and you’re showing all the signs with him.”

Louis sighed and crossed his arms in front of him, as if that would protect him from having to confront the truths Oli was presenting to him. “It doesn’t matter how I feel, Oli. I’m not out, and I might not be out for a while. He knows that, and whether he’d ever feel the same way or want to try anything, I can’t put him through that, the hiding and sneaking around, especially since he’s been able to be open about himself for his entire career.”

“Louis …” Oli started, but Louis turned away. 

“I can’t talk about this right now. Just … let me go check on him, yeah? Go back and tell the lads I’ll see them tomorrow.”

Oli hesitated, but nodded and headed back to the band’s bus. Louis went the opposite direction, opening the door to his bus and climbing up into the interior, determined to leave all traces of his frustration outside. 

Harry was curled up in one of the swivel chairs, his laptop balanced precariously on his knees, going through a video frame by frame. His hair was thrown up in a tiny, messy bun and he was huddled under one of Louis’ blankets. Louis’ heart skipped a beat and he had to try very hard not to follow his instinct to cuddle him. 

“Hey, Harry,” Louis said softly as he closed the door behind him. Harry looked up and over his shoulder, and even in the dim light, Louis could see his dimple carving a crater in his cheek. He wanted to kiss it so badly. 

“Lou, you’re back early,” Harry commented, moving his laptop to the floor and turning to face Louis as Louis took his seat. Louis settled into the seat. 

“I … I wanted to check in on you,” Louis admitted, hoping it was dark enough that Harry couldn’t see the sheepishness on his face. 

“Oh.” Harry’s expression was hard to read, and Louis hoped he hadn’t said the wrong thing. 

“I didn’t want you to feel lonely,” Louis rushed to say, cringing at his own earnestness. “I mean … fuck, this isn’t coming out right.” He took a deep breath. “I love hanging out with the band, but I like hanging out with you too. And I wanted to switch it up.”

“Okay … what do you wanna do?” Harry asked, going to close his laptop, but Louis’ hand shot out, keeping it open. 

“I want you to show me how you edit.”

Louis hadn’t meant to say it, but it was a good excuse for him to be here, one that wouldn’t make Harry suspicious about any feelings Louis may or may not be harboring. As if he needed to make their living situation for the next three weeks awkward. 

“I … are you sure? It’s kind of boring if you’re not a … camera nerd like me,” Harry said with a laugh. 

“I want to. Really. I’ve always been interested in your work and I’d love to see … everything,” Louis said, mumbling the last word. But Harry’s face had lit up, and he was nodding enthusiastically.

“Yeah, course we can do that! Let’s, umm, move to the sofa, there’s more room.”

Harry stood up and took his laptop with him, moving the few feet to the sofa. Louis followed, settling closer to Harry than he might usually have done, but he needed to be close to see … or at least that’s what he was telling himself. 

Harry pulled up a picture he’d taken at the last show of Michael jamming during the guitar solo in Fearless. Louis couldn’t see anything wrong with it, but that’s what he was here to learn about. 

“Alright, so first, we want to identify places where the lighting may be impacting the subject of the photo,” Harry said, pointing out where the lights at the back of the stage were shining a little too brightly on Michael’s face. “Because of where his head is, the light looks like it’s almost coming out of his face, and we want to make him the most defined and obvious part of the picture.” Harry moved his fingers over the touchpad, clicking a few buttons. Louis watched in amazement as the right side of Michael’s face became sharper. 

“Wow,” Louis whispered as Harry’s fingers moved over the keys, using such quick strokes that he couldn’t even keep up. When Harry appeared to be satisfied, he turned his face slightly to see if Louis was still paying attention, and Louis gave him a nod to continue. 

“Next, we want to make sure that the coloring in the picture is what we want. Where do we want more saturation? Where do we want to color correct? Where do we want it to dull down a little?” Harry pointed out a few places on the picture. “Once you decide those, then you go in and mess around with those settings until you have something you want.”

Louis watched on as Harry worked his magic. What would have taken Louis hours to even identify, Harry had both identified and fixed, and done it so fast that Louis could barely keep up. 

“Finally, you have to decide if you want to filter the entire picture. If you look at some Instagram feeds, every picture is the same coloring. Filtering is up to the photographer and whoever is posting.”

“Well, how do you feel about filters?” Louis asked, and Harry raised his eyebrows, as if he hadn’t expected to be asked his opinion. 

“I think they have their place. But I personally don’t use them often, unless someone I’m working for requests them. I like tweaking the natural elements of the pictures and letting them speak for themselves, if that … makes sense,” Harry trailed off. “You probably don’t care about that.”

“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t care,” Louis said softly, and Harry ducked his head.

“So … since you’re such a good student, do you think this picture is finished?” Harry asked suddenly, and Louis sat there, momentarily stunned. 

“Umm … I … yes?” Louis questioned. Harry’s gaze was piercing, silently judging him, and it was slightly terrifying. He usually never felt this out of control in any situation, but Harry made him question so many things. 

Harry waited a beat and then grinned, jabbing his elbow back into Louis’ stomach. “Yeah, it’s ready, I’m just teasing.”

Louis’ breath whooshed out of him and he fell against Harry’s shoulder, laughing. His nose was buried in the crook of Harry’s neck and he could smell his aftershave and his apple shampoo and it was intoxicating. He had to pull away. Had to put distance between them before he did something he shouldn’t. 

But when he pulled away, Harry turned to face him, and their faces were so close together that Harry’s was starting to blur before Louis’ eyes. He swallowed, unsure of how to proceed. Harry didn’t seem to want to move. His eyes were wide and they just sat in limbo, the tension growing with every second they stayed. 

There was a loud knock on the door of the bus and Louis jumped violently, scooting back from Harry and ending up on his feet. Harry had slammed his laptop shut at the noise, and even as Louis made his way to the door, Harry turned his back to him, busying himself with putting his things away. 

That night, Louis didn’t sleep, consumed by his frustration with not feeling like he could talk to Harry about the struggles of his past, guilt at how he’d treated his bandmates in his moment of overprotectiveness, and that moment between himself and Harry, where he was certain something was about to happen. They’d never get that moment back. 

________

Louis really needed to talk to Oli. Right now. 

He’d woken that morning, just a few days after his almost kiss or whatever it was with Harry, to find Harry still in bed. Which was very weird. Harry was an early riser - he went running every morning, no matter how late he’d been up the night before. There hadn’t been a single day that Harry wasn’t waiting up, drinking one of those godforsaken smoothies he always made, editing away when Louis clawed his way out of his cocoon of blankets on his bunk. 

But today, Louis had gotten out of bed to silence. He’d checked the entire bus before thinking to pull back the curtain of Harry’s bunk, and sure enough, there he was, only his hair visible above his duvet. 

“Harry?” Louis tried, reaching out a hand to touch what he assumed was the rise of his shoulder. Harry flinched and Louis yanked his hand back. “You alright, mate?”

“Please go away.”

Harry’s voice was broken and raspy, and Louis felt a lump forming in his throat. 

“Are you sick? Can I get you anything?”

“I need … to be alone. Please.”

Louis didn’t want to leave him alone. If he was being honest, he wanted to climb into Harry’s bunk and pull him to his chest and hold him until he felt better. But he couldn’t do that. And the pleading in Harry’s voice had something nagging at the back of Louis’ mind - like something had happened that he should know about. 

He picked up his phone and texted Oli, asking to meet up to grab some food, and Oli had responded almost immediately. With that, he got quietly off the bus, making sure that he mentioned to JD that Harry was still there before grabbing Joni and hurrying off to meet Oli. 

When they’d gotten their food - with only a few fan interactions - Louis and Oli made a space for themselves in a hidden grassy area by the buses. Louis wasted absolutely no time. 

“Alright. I need you to tell me how much you know,” he said, taking a bite of his sandwich and looking at Oli. Oli swallowed his swig of his iced coffee, his face pinching in a way that didn’t bode well.

“Liam kind of … told me a little. Not a lot - he mainly told me about his personal struggles, not Harry’s, but anyway.” Oli paused. “Liam was Beau Nelson’s personal assistant, kind of like I am to you. And he said that Beau and Harry were always kind of a package deal. When Liam met Beau, Harry was always right behind him with his camera and a smile on his face. The three of them became inseparable.

Harry turned down a lot of jobs to work for Beau - he turned down Little Mix, for fuck’s sake. But Beau and Harry worked so well together. They were best friends, and Liam just completed their trio as Beau’s music took off.”

Louis nodded, following. This stuff seemed pretty self explanatory, but hearing just how close they were made what would happen seem all the worse. 

Oli was looking down now, and his next words were mumbled. “I’m sure you looked up Beau after hiring Harry, yeah? So you know what happened there.”

“You know me so well. Yeah, I read a few articles.”

“So you know that Beau was found by two friends the morning of his death.”

“I guess I assumed that it was Harry and Liam, just by what Beau had posted on his socials the night of his death. Where are you going with this?”

When Oli looked up, the pain on his face was evident. “They didn’t just find him. They were in the room with him when he died.”

Louis felt his face drain of color. He couldn’t comprehend what Oli was saying. It was too horrible. But then again, what reason would Oli have to lie?

“Are you sure?” he whispered, and Oli nodded miserably. 

“Liam said they woke up next to him and he just … wasn’t breathing. Liam … he doesn’t remember much about that day. He admitted to me that he went a little hysterical. But he said that Harry didn’t even cry. He just stood up and called 999 and didn’t say a word after.”

Louis just stared over Oli’s shoulder at nothing. He’d known it was bad, but now so many things made sense. Harry’s aversion to being touched unless he initiated it. His hesitancy to join another tour. His strange ability to seemingly turn on and off certain feelings and parts of his brain and his past. The whiplash Louis had experienced with Harry’s moods. 

“Fucking hell, Oli, that’s … fuck,” Louis said, running a hand over the back of his neck. 

“I know. It took Liam a while to tell that story, even now. He told me he’s been in therapy ever since it happened, but it took him almost a year to convince Harry to do the same.”

“I just thought he was having trouble mourning the death of his friend … god, I should have known …” Louis mumbled to himself, feeling sudden guilt press down on his chest. Oli reached out for him. 

“No. Louis, don’t do this. It’s not your fault. You didn’t know, and I think you were right not to ask him.”

Louis just sat in silence for a bit, eating what was left of his sandwich, despite not feeling too hungry anymore. But then one more question came to his mind. 

“But … there’s something about today, there has to be. I know I should know, but I just … Harry was so upset this morning, he wouldn’t get out of bed, wouldn’t look at me. He just asked me to leave.”

Oli nodded. “Liam called this morning. He warned me that today was going to be a hard one for him. But you texted me before I could tell you.”

And then it hit him. Louis remembered looking at Beau’s instagram, seeing his last post, noting the date. 

“Fuck. It’s been two years since …” He couldn’t finish, but Oli’s expression told him everything he needed to know. “What do we do? We have a show tonight. I have to start rehearsals in an hour.”

Oli’s smile appeared then. “Liam was planning to come on for a few days anyway, and he happens to have off today.” Oli was blushing now. “He’s already on his way.”

As if Oli’s statement had summoned him, a shadow fell over the trash between them, and Louis looked up into the smiling face of Liam Payne. 

Oli was on his feet in an instant, throwing his arms around Liam’s neck. “You’re here!”

Liam’s chuckle was barely audible as Louis stood as well, and Liam kissed Oli’s cheek sweetly. “Missed you, Ol.”

“Missed you too, Li,” Oli said softly, and Louis couldn’t help but snort. 

“God you lot are disgusting. Please spare me. Hi, Liam, good to see you again,” Louis offered a hand to Liam, who shook it, grinning. 

“Happy to be here. Hope the shows have been good?”

“Yeah, they have. The band and the crew, they’re all great. Harry too, mate, he’s a genius with a camera. I can’t praise him enough.”

Liam’s smile at that was blinding. “Good to hear. I really … I truly worried about how he’d adapt to this, but his messages over the last two weeks have seemed mostly positive. You’ve been good for him.” Liam paused, his smile dropping as his eyes drifted towards the buses. “Today, though …”

Louis nodded gravely. “I know. I … I’m so sorry. I know that means next to nothing, probably, but I wanted to say it anyway.”

“Thanks, Louis. It means a lot. It was really hard going, these past two years.”

A silence fell between the three of them, weighted with uncertainty and sadness. 

“You want to head off, spend some time together, I’m sure,” Louis said. Though he was starting to get anxious about Harry and him not being able to do his job, he didn’t want to take away from his best friend’s happiness. He’d figure it out. Maybe they’d just go without a photographer for one night. 

Liam and Oli looked at each other, and Oli nodded, stepping away. 

“Take me to him,” Liam ordered, albeit kindly. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Louis felt a weird sense of relief, but it was mixed with jealousy, even as he led Liam toward his bus. He hated that there was nothing he could do to help Harry right now. He felt useless. 

They stepped onto the dark bus and right away, Louis could hear a soft sniffling and choked off sobs. His heart sank right through the floor, and he stepped back, letting Liam go past him. Liam shed his jacket and moved to Harry’s bunk. 

“H? Hey, mate, it’s Liam. I’m here.”

There was a rustle and then Harry’s face, swollen and blotchy, appeared. Louis watched him practically tumble out of his bunk and then he was in Liam’s arms, his entire body shaking with the force of his sobs. Liam held him, running his fingers through his hair, tears coursing silently down his own cheeks.

Louis knew he had no place here, not in this moment, so he backed his way off the bus, closing the door and leaving Liam and Harry to their shared grief. He went over to Oli’s and collapsed on the sofa, and Oli turned from his TV to face him. 

“I hate this,” Louis mumbled, pulling his legs up to his chest and holding them. 

“Maybe … maybe after today, you should tell him that you know. He’s going to assume you do anyway. Maybe getting that out in the open will help him confide in you.”

Louis shook his head. “I don’t want him to think I’m being his friend or trying to make him feel comfortable out of pity.”

Oli rolled his eyes. “Trust me. He doesn’t think that. Every time you defend him or say something kind to him, his whole face lights up like a fucking Christmas tree.”

“Don’t give me hope, Ol, I can’t do that,” Louis groaned. “Distract me. Tell me more about you and Liam.” Louis raised his eyebrows. “I mean, it has to be serious if he came all the way here from England just to see you.”

“And Harry,” Oli reminded him, but Louis waved him off. 

“Details. Now spill.”

Oli’s ruddy cheeks mixed well with his dopey smile. “Well …”

____________

H.

Harry had expected today to be hard. But with as well as he’d been doing over the last few weeks, he thought he’d have a better handle over his emotions. 

He hadn’t slept well the night before, his mind conjuring up his worst memories in excruciating detail. He tried to go back to sleep, but nothing was working. And when he heard Louis get up, he knew it had to be late, but he physically couldn’t force himself to face Louis when he was like this. He didn’t want Louis to see what a fucked up mess he was. 

He’d snapped at Louis, he knew that, even though he’d tried to be polite, and the guilt he felt over that was not helping. He crawled out of his bunk long enough to get his airpods and then he’d done the one thing he knew he shouldn’t do - he put on Beau’s music. 

His therapist had insisted that Harry allow himself to feel things - apparently, he was too good at bottling his pain, and it was important for him to let himself be sad. It was part of his recovery process. Even so, this felt like overkill, because Harry felt like he’d been run over by a truck. 

Somewhere around the second album, he started crying, and he found that he couldn’t stop. The hole in his life that had been left by Beau felt just as raw as it had two years ago, and he wished more than anything that he could just disappear.

When his playlist ended, he just laid there, unable to stop his tears from continuing to flow. And it was then that he heard Liam’s voice, and that was it. Liam being there, having one person he could show this side of himself to, was all he needed to get out of bed, and he’d fallen right into Liam’s embrace. But not before he caught a glimpse of Louis leaving the bus, and Harry’s heart, against his wishes, ached for him. 

He’d been sitting with Liam for about an hour, and he’d only stopped crying a few minutes ago. Harry knew that Louis had to have gone to soundcheck by now, but the thought of touching his camera right now made him want to throw up. 

“Li … I can’t do it tonight.”

He felt Liam breathe where his head was resting on Liam’s chest. 

“I know it’s hard, H. I get it. I’ll stay here with you all night if you want.” Liam paused and Harry looked up at him awkwardly. “I needed someone today too, you know.”

Harry sat up, his hair everywhere. “You didn’t come for me and we both know that. It just happened to fall on this day.”

Liam shrugged. “Well, yeah, but you needed me. I don’t mind, and neither does Oli.

“You should be with him. I … I can handle myself,” Harry said, but he didn’t believe a word of what he was saying.

“Why are you trying to push me away?” Liam asked, his tone biting, and Harry shrank from it. 

“I … I didn’t mean to. I just … I don’t want to be pitied.”

“When have I ever given you a reason to think that what I feel for you in these moments is pity?” Liam said, his gaze hardening as he sat up too. Harry felt worse, but he couldn’t stop speaking. The words were coming out before his brain could catch up. 

“Because somehow Beau’s death ruined my entire life and you seem to be doing just fine and you would have moved on from it by now if you didn’t have me to worry about … to pity for my inability to get my shit together.”

“I was there too, Harry! I was there. I woke up next to his body same as you. How could you think that I would ever be able to move on from that, that I’d ever want to?”

“Because all I’ve tried to do since that day is forget about it and I can’t! And you’re able to go out and work and go on dates and I just don’t get it!”

“Harry. You’re not making sense. Where is this coming from?” Liam said harshly, grabbing Harry’s arm. Harry didn’t have an answer. His anxiety was at an all time high. He couldn’t think straight. Nothing about anything made sense right now. His head was spinning. 

“I … I don’t know. I can’t … fuck, I can’t think, I just want to …”

“Scream?” Liam suggested, and Harry nodded. 

“I don’t know how to let it out …” Harry whispered, gripping Liam’s sleeve as though that would ground him, bring him back to himself so he wasn’t talking nonsense. 

Liam reached for him and pulled him into his arms, and Harry went. He just wanted his mind to be quiet. He needed silence. 

“H, listen to me. You’re allowed to be sad. You’re allowed to be angry. Shit, I spent the first three months of therapy pissed out of my mind because he was an idiot and he left us like that.”

“I don’t want to be angry. I just want him back,” Harry admitted, his face buried in Liam’s shoulder. 

“I know. Me too. He had so much more to give,” Liam said against Harry’s hair, and Harry nodded. “But we can’t forget him.”

“But it hurts,” Harry choked out, his throat tightening.

“The fact that it hurts means that our friendship with him was meaningful,” Liam said gently. “That means that we had so much love for him, so much love left to give him, and he deserves to be remembered as he was, not what he became.”

Harry was silent. The voices in his head had gone quiet too, and he just sat there, letting the silence calm him, center him. 

“I’m sorry, Li. I didn’t mean … I don’t know what that was.”

Liam shook his head, squeezing Harry closer. “It’s alright. I know you were just lashing out. You tend to bottle things up, H, you know that.”

“I shouldn’t,” Harry mumbled, and Liam laughed a little. 

“At least you’re self-aware, eh?”

“Yeah, guess so.”

They stayed there a moment more and then Liam pulled away from Harry, leveling him with a look. 

“I know you said you couldn’t do photos tonight, and I know Louis wouldn’t ever ask you to. He … cares a lot about you. But I think you should try.”

Harry shook his head. “Liam, I-”

“Just hear me out. I’ll go with you. I’ll be there the whole time and we can … we can remember Beau together. And if it gets to be too much I’ll get you out of there, but this is your job. You chose this, and whether you think that was a good decision or not, you have to do what you came here to do.”

Harry let Liam’s words sink in. He hadn’t needed them - he knew Liam was right. And Liam knew that Harry would need a push to admit that, even to himself. 

“Well, it’s either that, or you tell me about your ridiculously embarrassing crush on Louis Tomlinson,” Liam said with a smirk, and Harry’s face burned red. He reached for his camera bag, pushing down the nausea, and Liam snickered. “That’s what I thought.”

________

Louis hadn’t seen him yet, but Harry could hear him in with the band, being his usual loud self. He always had so much energy before performances, no matter how little sleep he’d gotten the night before. Harry envied him for that. 

He moved into the room, Liam behind him, trying to melt into the flurry of people, but Louis’ gaze was on him at once. Harry swallowed down his fear. He could do this. He just needed to compartmentalize. 

“Harry … what are you doing here?” Louis asked quietly as Harry approached. 

“My job,” Harry said just as softly, knowing that he didn’t have an explanation other than that. 

Louis didn’t say anything more than that, but his face betrayed his feelings. His eyes held a sadness that Harry hadn’t seen there before, despite the smile on his face. He also didn’t miss the side eye he gave to Liam, but he couldn’t worry about that now. 

He’d managed to get his ass up and get his camera out and now he was going to film the warm-up since he’d missed soundcheck and wardrobe today. He pressed record and moved to the middle of their circle, crouching down to get an upward shot, and the band launched into an a cappella version of Don’t Let It Break Your Heart. 

His focus continued all the way until Louis was halfway through his set on stage. He came running off while Michael played his solo in Fearless, and took the cup of water Oli was holding out to him, his other hand safely in Liam’s. 

“Going well then?” Liam asked brightly, and Louis grinned. 

“Fucking buzzing, mate. Gotta get back out there!”

He was gone, back to the stage, before Harry had even registered what he said, but when he did, he felt his throat tighten and his vision blurred with sudden tears. 

Liam was right behind him in an instant, a hand on his elbow, steadying his shaking arm. “He’s a lot like Beau, isn’t he?” Liam said into his ear, and Harry nodded, because he’d had the same thought. Buzzing had been one of Beau’s staple words. He barely went three sentences without saying it. Harry even had a small bee tattoo hidden on his inner bicep for that very reason. 

“Yeah, he is,” Harry mumbled back, lifting his camera to get a shot of Louis holding the mic out to the crowd. 

They stayed there for the next few songs, getting some good angles of the band and the fans that he could see. And then, as Louis ran off before the encore, Harry had an idea. 

“Come on. I have something I want you to see,” Harry said to Liam, and Liam followed him out and around the stage to the small space between the barricade and the stage. Their appearance caused screams to erupt around them, and Liam winced a little, but he was grinning. Sometimes Harry forgot that Liam had been a huge part of the tour life too. Maybe he missed it more than he let on. 

Harry positioned himself at the far end, smiling a little at the fans who were trying to get his attention. By now, they probably knew who he was, but he doubted any of them knew about his past, about what today was, and somehow, that felt oddly liberating. He could just exist here, and he turned his camera towards them then, snapping a dozen or so pictures. 

Then the crowd’s noise doubled and Harry turned back to the stage as Louis came back out and the opening notes to Only The Brave rang out over the crowd. He smiled at Liam and then nodded to the fans, who had created a sea of color with flags and flashlights, turning the entire space into one giant rainbow. Liam’s eyes went wide and he gaped at them, but Harry’s focus was on Louis, who was looking out over his fans with such pride and happiness. His camera didn’t stop clicking for the two minutes the song lasted. 

Among the screaming as the song finished, Harry nudged Liam and led him back to behind the stage. As they went, Louis launched into his final speech of the night. 

“Thank you all. The lights were fucking beautiful, by the way,” he said to deafening cheers. Harry grabbed a picture of JD and Joni leaning against the wall, watching with arms crossed but eyes alight. “That song means a lot to me, and I’m grateful that it means a lot to you. Now, we’ve got two songs left, and this next one I’m going to dedicate to a friend of a friend. This friend died a few years ago today, and though I never met him, I see a lot of him and what he stood for in a special person of mine. It can be hard to lose people, especially when you’re not ready to see them go, but somehow, I think we all come out of tragedy like that a little battered but all the more beautiful for braving the pain. This one is for him, and for anyone out there who is missing someone tonight, this is Through The Dark.”

Harry’s eyes were filled with tears as Louis finished his speech, and he turned to Liam, who was already looking at him with equally glassy eyes. He leaned in to Harry and spoke into his ear. 

“I feel him.”

Harry’s bottom lip trembled, but he looked at Liam and managed a smile. Because he was right - Beau had always been an amazing ally, and he’d taken every opportunity to show the world that it was ok to be yourself, and he’d given people hope and healing through music. And though the world had lost him, they had people like Louis. And that, if nothing else, was what gave Harry the first moment of true acceptance of losing Beau - that people who had never met him, who had never even known him as a person, could carry on his love and his spirit. And he was here, in this room, in this space with them then, all thanks to Louis.

Harry watched Louis with a new sense of appreciation as he finished up his show, wishing everyone a good night, and bounding off the stage as the band played their outro. He hurried towards Harry and Liam, beaming. 

“Well, Li? Am I any good?”

Liam laughed. “Fuck, Louis, you know you put on a good show.” Liam put a hand on Louis’ shoulder. “That speech you gave … that was beautiful.”

“Well, Beau was a great artist. He deserves to live on through us.”

Louis’ bright gaze turned to Harry, searching his face. 

“You … you think I’m special?”

Harry regretted the words the moment they left his mouth, but he couldn’t take them back. He could just stand there, embarrassed that he’d even asked such a question. But Louis just smiled. 

“Of course I do. And you are. You mean so much to me, H.”

“But …” Harry bit down on his lip. “Won’t your fans think that … I mean …” Harry trailed off, hoping that Louis understood what he was saying. He didn’t want Louis to accidentally out himself if he wasn’t allowed or ready, just by a simple sentence. Not that they were together or anything. But still.

Louis shrugged. “Let them. I’m sure they know anyway. Clearly,” he said, gesturing to the exiting crowd they could just barely see from where they stood, “They’d support me either way.”

Harry threw all caution to the winds, overcome with emotion. He moved forward and pulled Louis into a bone crushing hug, ignoring the discomfort of his camera between them. Louis relaxed immediately into Harry’s hold and Harry’s heart stuttered, but he didn’t want to let go. 

When he finally had the strength to let Louis go, Louis just looked at him, questions brimming in his eyes. But all he could say was, “Thank you.”

It wasn’t just for the speech, or for his kindness, and Harry could only hope that Louis understood all that he was trying to say in those two words. Louis’ answering smile told Harry that he’d understood perfectly. 

The rest of the band was off now, piling on Louis as per usual, and Harry let him be swept away with his friends, turning back to Liam and Oli. They were cuddling, Oli’s head on Liam’s shoulder, and Harry knew that he’d be ok now, that he could be alone. 

“You two head off … get some alone time,” Harry said with a smirk, making both men blush. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

Harry made his way past the room where Louis and the band were doing celebratory shots, and for once, he didn’t feel sick at the sight. But he walked on, out and to the buses before any fans could spot him. What had started out as a pretty shitty day had ended with beauty and love and celebration, and Harry couldn’t ask for better.   

________

Something about that night changed Harry, and over the week that followed, he found that he wasn’t having to push down his feelings about Beau as much. They were still there, but he could let them wash over him sometimes and be ok. Instead of intense pain and PTSD from the entire situation, it was more like … a vague ache. He felt like Louis had freed a part of him with that speech, and in doing so, had brought Harry’s feelings for Louis to the forefront of everything. 

Louis was more touchy with him now, too. Always with a hand on his arm or pressed against the small of his back, and they hugged far more than an artist and a photographer should. But Louis was touchy with everyone, so Harry tried very hard not to look into it too much. 

They had a rare day off, and Harry was supposed to have a video chat with his therapist, Irene. Liam had suggested it - she had confided in Liam that she hadn’t heard from Harry since he started the tour with Louis. Which of course meant that Liam talked to him firmly about the benefits of therapy until Harry had dozed off against his shoulder. But he was right. How he had been coping the last few weeks wasn’t exactly healthy, and though he was feeling more composed about all of it now, it would be good to see what she thought. 

The bus had Wifi, which was good, but he wasn’t sure how he felt about Louis possibly hearing him talk about things. As much as he had come to trust and respect Louis, there were still parts of Harry’s story that he didn’t know, and Harry didn’t know if he’d ever be able to tell them.

Lucky for him, when it came time for the meeting, Louis was asleep - the dead couldn’t wake him, as Oli would have put it. Harry settled himself at the small makeshift table and set up his laptop, putting his Airpods in and connecting to the wifi. 

The video connected almost instantly, and Irene’s kind face filled the screen. Harry smiled, the sight of her relaxing. 

“Hiya, Harry. How are you feeling today?”

“Hi, Irene. Yeah, m’good.”

“Liam mentioned he saw you a few days ago when he came in for his session - how was that?”

Harry let out a pleased sigh. “I’ll be honest, the day he came was … really fucking hard. It’s been two years now, you know, since … since Beau died, and I wasn’t handling it all that well. But Liam, bless him, he was here, he got me through, and Louis shared a really special moment with the crowd. I feel like … I may have had a breakthrough?”

Irene’s smile was soft. “Walk me through that, Harry. I’d love to hear where your head is at.”

And so Harry did. He told her everything - how he’d been invited by Louis out of the blue to be his tour photographer, how the week leading up to the tour and the first night or so had been so difficult that he’d considered quitting. He talked about his unhealthy compartmentalizing, which she reprimanded him for, but he took it in his stride. 

“And when he made that speech, talking about Beau to all those people when he didn’t have to, it … it made me feel so light. Like he’d lifted the burden of his death off my shoulders a little,” Harry said quietly, pressing his lips together as he thought he heard Louis stir on his bunk. But the curtain stayed closed and didn’t move, and Harry turned his gaze back to Irene. 

“I’m very happy for you, Harry. It sounds like you’ve made some progress, despite spending the last few weeks falling back into old habits. It’s good that you’re able to identify what you’re doing when it’s happening, though. That way, you’re able to pull yourself out if you need to.” She paused, jotting something down on her notepad, and then looked up. “So … tell me about Louis.”

Harry choked on the water he’d just drunk. “Wh-what?”

“Tell me about him. I know his name of course - we were actually raised only a few towns apart, now I think on it.” She laughed. “You’ve mentioned his name a lot today, and I want to know about him. What’s he like?”

Harry could feel color blooming in his cheeks as he once again checked that Louis hadn’t yet woken up. “He’s … he’s magic, honestly.” He hadn’t meant to say that, but Irene just raised her eyebrows, waiting. “I don’t really know what else to say. He makes me laugh. He’s always looked out for me from day one. He’s never pitied me, even though I would be stupid to assume he doesn’t know why I’m … the way I am sometimes. He just let me be me, baggage and all.” She leveled him with a look, and Harry corrected himself. “I mean … he takes me as I am with all my experiences.”

“I see. You like him, then?”

Harry knew she wasn’t fishing for an answer. Irene wasn’t like that. She was the type of person to wait for someone to come to her and offer information freely. And there were many times that Harry wouldn't do so, despite all he’d learned in the last year. But this felt like one of those times where he could just lay it all out there, even with Louis sleeping mere feet away from where he was. 

“I … more than I should, actually.”

Irene’s answering smile was enough to let Harry know that she’d suspected it all along. 

“And how does he feel about you?”

Harry frowned at that, his eyes darting yet again to the closed curtain on Louis’ bunk. “I don’t know. He cares for me, but I don’t think … even if he did, he’s not out, and … I don’t think I could let it happen.”

“Why is that?”

“Because I … I get carried away. I trust too much. I care too much about what people close to me think, and I …” Harry took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. His voice felt tight. “I let myself love Beau, even if it wasn’t the same way as this could be, and he … what happened to him broke me. I don’t think I could stand it … being worried that the same thing could happen again would take everything out of me.”

Irene nodded. “I understand where you’re coming from. It’s moments like this, where your present so closely mirrors your past that it’s hard to differentiate one from the other, to separate them in your mind and in your heart. But Harry …” She put her pen down and looked at him through the screen. “You are allowed to be happy. You are allowed to love someone. You are allowed to let them in. It is far better to do this than to close yourself off to the potential of something beautiful.”

Harry’s eyes were wet now, and he opened his mouth to say something more when Louis’ curtain was pulled back and Harry’s eyes snapped to it, watching as a very sleepy Louis tumbled out of his bunk. He wiped his eyes quickly, hoping that Louis hadn’t seen or heard anything. 

“Thank you for … for the meeting. I’ll be back in for a session next week? We have a break on tour after tomorrow night,” Harry said quickly, and Irene nodded. 

“I’ve got you down for it. Thank you for talking to me, Harry.”

Harry nodded and hung up, pushing his laptop closed and taking out his Airpods. 

“Afternoon, Lou,” Harry said quietly, and Louis nodded, rubbing at his eyes. Harry’s heart clenched. 

“Who’re you talking to?” Louis asked, his voice raspy with sleep. 

“Just … umm, my therapist,” Harry admitted, not sure why he felt embarrassed. As it was, Louis leveled him with a concerned look, which made it worse. 

“Did you … were you supposed to be meeting with her every week? Did I not give you time? God, I’m so sorry, I didn’t …”

Harry shook his head, standing up and moving towards Louis. “No, no. I … I told her I would be ok for the tour, but Liam suggested I maybe … talk to her. After … umm, you know, the other week.”

Louis’ panicked expression seemed to relax completely as Harry’s fingers made contact with his arm.

“Right, of course. I should have … sorry,” Louis mumbled, and Harry just gave his arm a squeeze. 

“Don’t apologize, Lou. I’m alright. We just talked about … things.”

“And you’re sure you’re feeling okay?” Louis asked, turning so they were facing each other. His hands were on Harry’s elbows now, and Harry wanted nothing more than to just fall into his touch. 

“Yeah, m’good, Lou.”

Louis sighed and looped his arms around Harry’s waist in a hug, and Harry went, his arms going around Louis’ shoulders. He hoped Louis couldn’t feel how hard his heart was beating. 

“Mmm, you’re very warm, Hazza,” Louis said, his words muffled where his face was pressed into Harry’s shoulder. Harry willed himself not to get hard. 

When Louis stepped away, Harry was both grateful and disappointed. He would have gladly held Louis for hours. 

“Now. We’ve got an hour left before we get to the venue for tomorrow, and I’d love to beat your ass at FIFA at least once before we get there,” Louis said with a smirk, his energy finally catching up to him as he woke up properly. 

“Heyyyy, I’m getting better. Our games last way longer now,” Harry complained, giving Louis a light shove, and Louis shoved him back. 

“Bullshit.”

But nevertheless, Harry sat down with Louis and played until they pulled in, basking in the glow of a happy Louis and trying not to acknowledge just how hard he was falling for him. 

________

In retrospect, Harry should have known things were too good to be true. He felt too happy, too comfortable, was having too much fun, was smiling too much. But he’d been so blinded by the freedom of it all that by the time the other shoe dropped, he was not at all prepared for it. 

The buses arrived and parked in an underground parking area, where Louis, Harry, the band, and Oli decided to have a few races and play a few games. Harry participated in all of them, handing his camera off to JD. Even Joni joined in, and Harry quite enjoyed watching him hoist Louis over his shoulder and run off with him, Louis’ cackles echoing around the enclosed space. 

Harry finally felt like part of the group. He had inside jokes with band members, and he and Oli ragged on Louis more often than was strictly necessary, but seeing Louis get all huffy made Harry’s heart soar. Louis' eyes would narrow but they were always sparkling when he looked at Harry. 

So when they returned to the bus for bed and Joni came around with their last schedule before the break, Harry didn’t even think to register where they were, what size venues Louis had been playing, none of it. It hadn’t even crossed his mind to check the master schedule Niall had sent him all those weeks ago. 

“Sleep well, boys. Last one of this leg tomorrow night,” Joni said, handing over two schedules to Harry, and Harry bid him goodnight, walking back through the bus towards Louis. He glanced down at the paper - they had all been the same: the name of the city and venue at the top in bold, the schedule below. He’d gotten one for every date. Usually, where they were in the world never jumped out at him. But this was different. 

He came to a dead stop as he read the city and venue once, twice, three times. The paper shook in his hand as all traces of happiness and calm were washed from him from one moment to the next. 

“Hey, was that Joni? Did he give you the … what’s wrong?”

Louis had come out of the bathroom, dressed for bed in nothing but old, loose joggers. Harry looked up at him, his grip on the schedules tightening, and Louis took a step closer. 

“Harry … let me see it.”

Harry let Louis pry his fingers from the schedule, but he didn’t move. He wasn’t even sure he was breathing right now. How could he have missed this? How had he not been more prepared?

He knew the exact moment when Louis understood. His eyebrows went from crunched to raised, and then distressed. He looked up at Harry, who barely saw him, everything around him fuzzy.

“H … do you need to sit down?”

Harry wasn’t aware of responding, but he felt the material of the sofa underneath him a moment later, and Louis’ hands were on his face.

“Harry, you have to look at me. Breathe with me, come on …”

Harry took as deep of a breath as his body would allow, his hands moving to Louis’ wrists and staying there. His touch was what grounded him in this moment. 

“I’m … fuck …” Harry said, his words coming out choppy. He hated this. Hated that all the good in his day could be taken away with just a few words on a piece of paper. Hated that Louis was seeing him like this again. He thought he was getting better, that he had control.

“Harry, don’t … you … trauma isn’t here one minute, gone the next, love,” Louis said softly, and Harry felt mortified as he realized he’d said all of that out loud. But Louis' thumb was tracing his cheekbone, his gaze unwavering. “I wasn’t there. I don’t know what you experienced. But I know that you’re strong, and whatever you’re feeling right now doesn’t negate that fact. I just need you to stay with me, yeah?”

Harry squeezed his eyes shut, trying desperately not to slip into memories. “I’m … I’m here.”

“Yeah, you are. You’re here with me, yeah?”

Harry wrenched his eyes open, green meeting blue. “With you.”

They stayed like that, repeating the words again and again, until Harry felt himself start to relax. His muscles ached from how tense he’d been, and Louis looked so relieved that Harry wanted to cry just for that reason. 

“Harry, I … I need you to know that you can come to me. Even about this. I know it’s hard. I’m not asking for an explanation. But you don’t have to be scared, not with me. I want to help.”

Harry took a few calming breaths, leaning into Louis’ touch on his face. “It’s … I haven’t been back. Not since …” He swallowed the sob that threatened to burst out of him. “I don’t know how I’ll … react. Being in there. I don’t want to disappoint you.”

Louis shook his head, his grip on Harry’s face becoming harder. “I won’t make you go in if you don’t want to. I’ll go without for one night. But I will support you if you want to. I’ll walk with you. I’ll stay with you, and Oli will too. You just let us know, yeah?”

Harry nodded, a lone tear tracing his cheek. Harry felt Louis wipe it away with his thumb. 

“I … I need …” Harry started to say, terrified to even ask for what he craved in this moment. 

“Anything, H.”

“Need you to … to hold me.”

Louis cocked his head. “Like … just a hug, or … laying down?”

Harry’s head ached almost as much as his heart. “L-laying down. Please.”

Louis didn’t even waver. He moved back on the sofa until he was pressed against the back, his arms open and welcome. Harry crawled up and let Louis’ arm circle around his waist, his back pressed against Louis’ bare chest. He could hear Louis’ heartbeat - it was soothing. 

“M’tired,” Harry found himself mumbling, and Louis just ran his fingers gently through Harry’s hair. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” Louis responded, and Harry let his eyes close. He just needed a few minutes, just to get everything under control. As if a few minutes was enough time to heal him of the pain this place had caused him. 

____________

L.

Louis woke at an absurd hour of the morning with a mouthful of curls and his arms and legs wrapped around a furnace of a person. He found himself nuzzling his nose into Harry’s hair and he breathed, wondering how he got so lucky.

Then the previous night came rushing back to him as he came to full consciousness, and he felt dread fill him.

Harry was sound asleep in his arms, his face more relaxed as he slumbered. He had none of the frown lines, none of the worry lines, none of the pain that Louis knew was locked inside him, no matter how he appeared outwardly. He looked younger, almost, with his dark hair framing his face, moving only slightly as he breathed. Louis wanted to caress his cheek, as he had done the night before, but he didn’t. He was lucky Harry had gotten any sleep at all, and he wanted him to be as rested as he could be before tackling today. 

He should have known, was the thing. He felt like every time Harry broke down, there was something he could have done to prepare, to prevent it, to help. It didn’t help matters that he was also halfway in love with the man in his arms, because anything he did to comfort him brought up feelings that didn’t belong in those moments. 

Despite his careful movements, Harry was stirring now, his nose crinkling as he started to wake up. Louis felt Harry nuzzle backwards into him and he tightened his hold on him subconsciously, wanting Harry to know he was still there. 

“Lou …” Harry mumbled, his voice low and gravely, and Louis smiled softly as he finally saw the green of Harry’s eyes. 

“M’here, H. You sleep alright?”

Harry nodded once, turning his head at an absurd angle so he could see Louis. “Best sleep I’ve had in a while. No dreams, which I … expected.”

“Right. Course. Better let you go now eh?” Louis said with a small laugh, releasing Harry from his hold. He felt the distance between them immediately and hated it. 

“God …” Harry said, holding his head. His shoulders were slumped, and Louis placed a gentle hand on one of them. 

“Is there anything you usually do? To … to help?”

“I run.”

Louis knew Harry was an avid runner, but he hadn’t known it was for this reason. He didn’t like to think of Harry feeling so much stress and guilt about Beau that he had to run every morning just to take the edge off. 

“I’ll go with you,” Louis said before he could stop himself, which he immediately regretted. He wasn’t a runner. He could play a game of footie all day long, but running with no other purpose? Not at all. But Harry had looked up at that, and Louis knew he was fucked. How could he even consider backing out if it made Harry happy?

Harry studied him with an amused expression. “Lou, you’re not a runner.”

“Doesn’t matter. I’m coming.”

“Fine. Let me just … change,” Harry said, and he was up and off, leaving Louis to wake himself up and pointedly ignore his morning wood. He looked at his phone and groaned - it was only 7AM. The things he’d do for Harry …

Ten minutes later, Louis found himself outside the bus, a hoodie pulled up to conceal his face. He wasn’t about to wake Joni or JD up just to tell them they were going for a run. They wouldn’t go far, and surely no one was waiting outside the venue at this time of day. 

Harry started at a fairly fast pace, but Louis was determined to keep up. Harry didn’t speak as he ran, but Louis noticed that he’d left his Airpods back on the bus. It was interesting, to say the least. 

They’d only been at it ten minutes when Louis felt his entire side seize up and he stumbled to a halt, his breaths like knives in his lungs. 

Harry came to a graceful halt that didn’t at all match up with his usual clumsiness and came back to Louis. Louis braced his hands on his knees and tried to breathe, but that made it worse. 

“Put your hands on your head. Stand up straight. In through the nose, out through the mouth,” Harry instructed softly, and Louis glared at him but did as he was told. Immediately the pain eased, and he walked in a circle, trying to catch his breath. 

“Fuck, how does this help you again?” Louis asked, squinting up at Harry as the sun came out from behind the clouds. Harry observed the skyline grimly. 

“Physical pain dulls emotional pain,” he said without looking at him, and Louis felt infinitely worse. He said nothing, though, not wanting to upset Harry, and followed him as he began to run again, ignoring the pain he was in. He’d have a long, hot shower when he got back to the bus. 

They ran for what must have been an hour, Louis becoming increasingly uncomfortable, but he kept pace with Harry all the way, knowing that Harry needed this and Louis could not slow him down. When they returned to the bus, Harry sat down on the floor and stretched while Louis headed for the bathroom, desperate for a shower for more reasons than one. 

As much as he’d been intending on his accompanying of Harry to be purely for Harry’s benefit and to make sure Harry knew that all Louis wanted was to make him happy and feel safe, Louis had gotten much more out of it than that. Because when Harry ran, he wore these tiny little running shorts that showed so much of his thigh, Louis’ mouth had watered. Harry had a tattoo on his one thigh that Louis had to physically force himself not to stare at. 

Harry’s legs were so long. His hair was half coming out of its tiny bun by the time they got back. Harry got this healthy flush to his face and his eyes were wide and overbright when he ran. Louis didn’t stand a fucking chance. 

Louis turned the water as cold as it would go and doused himself in it, shivering, but it did the job, softening up his cock at once. He then let it gradually warm up until it was scalding, and Harry may have had a point - physical pain did dull emotional pain. Because Louis’ skin was on fire right now, which meant he wasn’t thinking about how badly he wanted to fuck his photogropher into the mattress, something that he absolutely could not do. 

He was in there so long that there was a sudden knock on the door and Harry’s muffled voice from outside. 

“Louis? You alright?”

Louis shut off the water, grabbed a towel, and wrapped it quickly around his waist before opening the door. 

Harry was standing there, his hands behind his back, still in his sweat damp clothes. His eyes widened ever so slightly as they raked up and down Louis’ body, and Louis blushed. 

“I’m all good, did you need in?”

Harry nodded. “Yeah. JD came by, says you’re due at soundcheck in ten. They’re doing it early today since it’s a bigger venue and there are more logistics to go through with the seating and the lights and all.”

Louis noted the tremble of Harry’s voice, the way he was speaking far faster than he usually did. He wanted to reach out, but he was essentially naked and he didn’t think Harry would appreciate that too much, even if things between them had been more … heightened and tense lately. 

“Right. I’ll get going then. I’ll … see you there?”

Another stiff nod. “Yeah.”

Louis wanted to say so much more, but he let Harry pass him and moved toward his bunk where he’d put out his clothes for the day. He dressed quickly and heard the shower turn on. He almost waited, almost just blew off soundcheck, but he had to trust Harry. He didn’t want Harry to feel belittled in any way, and if Harry said he’d be there, then he would be. 

Oli caught up with him as he headed into the venue, accompanied by JD. “You good, Lou?”

Louis shook his head. “You know where we are, right?” 

Oli bit at his lip as they walked through the door and into the passages beneath the stage. “Yeah. I thought maybe you’d be with Harry right now. How’s he holding up?”

“I don’t think he even thought about it till last night. He saw the schedule and just kind of … fell apart a little. I …” Louis looked around, and JD had enough sense to pretend he wasn’t listening. “I cuddled him to sleep. He asked me to, and I just … I wanted him to be okay. And we both fell asleep and woke up like that. And I know he only did it because he needed someone, but … I liked it a lot,” Louis admitted, embarrassed and guilty. 

“Lou, don’t be so hard on yourself. You did what he asked and you didn’t take advantage of him. Liking how it felt doesn’t make you a bad person,” Oli assured him as they stepped onto the stage, surrounded by sound equipment. He took his in-ears and a mic from the sound engineer and set to work outfitting himself with them. Oli held the microphone while Louis threaded the wire down the back of his shirt. 

“I know, but … this venue, this place, it’s nothing but bad memories for him. I can’t focus on my feelings right now. I just need to be his friend.”

“You’re a good person, Lou. He’d be an idiot not to love you,” Oli said confidently, and Louis gave his friend a half smile. Oli’s face turned suddenly serious then. “But be careful too. I don’t think he’d hurt you, but you’re not … you haven’t broached the subject of coming out with your new management yet. I don’t want that taken away from you, or for you to be punished.”

Louis’ heart clenched at Oli’s concern. “I appreciate that … always looking out for me. But it will be fine. If Harry and I … if we were to do anything, he knows that it would have to be a secret at least for now. Go. I’ve got it from here. Call Liam and have phone sex or something. And let Harry know where we are if you see him, yeah?”

Oli gave him a nod and a wave and headed off, and Louis turned back to the mic and to his band. 

“Testing, one two three …” he said into his mic, and soundcheck began.

________

When Louis came off stage from soundcheck, the venue had provided food for them. Louis thanked them profusely before digging into the spread. 

He felt a tall presence next to him and turned to see Harry, looking a little pale but otherwise pretty calm. He was helping himself to the salad and the egg salad sandwiches, and when Louis made eye contact with him, his lips twitched up in a pale imitation of a smile. 

“Nice of them to do this, isn’t it?” Louis said, cringing at his attempt at small talk. 

“They do this for all their artists. It’s very nice,” Harry said in return, and Louis felt his stomach lurch at that. It couldn’t be easy for Harry, being here, experiencing the same things but not with the same people. 

“You doing okay?” Louis asked quietly, and Harry’s hair bobbed in his ascent. 

“I mean, I made it into this room without running out of the building, so I think that counts as ‘okay’,” he said, and Louis couldn’t help but laugh. It was good, healthy even, for Harry to be able to joke about this. Or maybe it was a defense mechanism. Either way, Harry was here, his camera in its signature place around his neck, and that was all Louis could ask for. 

The rest of the day seemed to pass quickly. Louis did a second soundcheck in the afternoon and then went into wardrobe, where he chose his final outfit for this leg. He really liked it, and had his hair done a bit messier than usual, as it was starting to get long. Harry was there the entire time, taking pictures and videos and chatting to the band, and although he seemed slightly quieter than usual, Oli was by his side the whole time, and that seemed to relax him a little. Louis almost wished that Liam had come this week instead of last week. 

When the opening act went on, Louis sat around with the band, Oli joining him only one song in. 

“Harry’s been in the loo a while,” he said, and Louis felt his stomach drop. He thought he might know what was going on. 

“Come on, let’s go check on him,” Louis said, and he left his bandmates and their banter, heading down the small hallway to the toilets. 

Upon entering, he could hear a retching sound and see Harry’s shoes sticking out from one of the stalls. He knocked quietly and pushed the door open. Harry was crumpled on the floor, and it was a sign of how sick he felt that he was willingly clutching this dingy toilet seat like it was the only thing keeping him upright. 

Louis crouched down and pushed Harry’s hair away from his sweaty forehead. “Harry …”

“No, Lou, I’m fine, honestly, I can … shit ,” Harry buried his head in the bowl and heaved again, but nothing came up. Louis wasn’t sure Harry had eaten anything at all other than that salad around lunch time. 

“Mate, we’ve got ten minutes,” Oli said quietly, looking at his phone. Louis turned back to Harry. 

“Listen to me, Harry. I don’t need you tonight. We have plenty of backstage pics to get us through. Seriously. You can go back to the bus, I won’t blame you. We’ll be traveling to the hotel after the show anyway.”

Harry looked up at him, his eyes glassy with frustrated tears. “I have to do this. I have to … to prove that I …” He hiccuped and ducked his head miserably. Louis reached out and lifted Harry’s chin so they were looking directly at each other. He had a momentary desire to kiss the tears off Harry’s bright cheeks, but he shoved it down. 

“You don’t have to prove anything to me.”

Harry’s eyebrows furrowed. “Not to you … to myself.”

Oli’s little gasp behind them was enough to get Louis choked up. He cupped Harry’s cheek and Harry leaned into it, blinking slowly. Louis swallowed down his emotions. 

“I … alright. But if you need to leave, you take Oli with you and you go wherever you need to. I’ll find you after, yeah?”

Harry nodded, clutching his stomach but slowly gaining color in his face again. Louis motioned to Oli and they both heaved Harry to his feet. Louis grabbed his camera, which had been sitting on the floor next to him, and looped it around his neck. 

“You’re so brave, Harry,” he whispered, letting his hand rest over Harry’s heart for a fraction of a second, and Harry just nodded. 

“Five minutes,” Oli said with a nudge, and Louis removed his hand from Harry. 

“I’m gonna get out there. Put on a great show that will make Beau proud, alright?”

“Yeah,” Harry mumbled, and then Joni was peering into the bathroom. 

“You’re up, mate,” he said, and Louis turned away, following Joni to the stage. He hoped Oli could take care of Harry while he was up there. But he had also meant what he said. This was going to be the best show he ever put on. He would make sure of it. 

________

It was the way that Harry gradually began to smile throughout the show that gave Louis an extra boost of energy. Louis had one eye on him the whole time, and instead of faltering, like Louis expected (and would not blame him for in the slightest), he seemed to gain confidence with every picture he took. He spent more time in the space between the stage and the barricade, getting tons of fan pictures, and Louis really enjoyed getting the fans Harry was concentrating on riled up by pointing at them mid-song. 

Louis felt the energy buzzing through his body as he came back out for the encore, and it blew by, seeming to end in three seconds instead of 15 minutes. He stayed on way longer than he normally would, blowing kisses and waving to the crowd, whose noise did not diminish even after the last drumbeat had sounded. He basked in it, taking it in, aware that he’d have to wait a week before he heard this again. 

When he was practically pulled off stage by Niall, who had attended this last gig as a surprise, he couldn’t stand still. He was quite literally bouncing as he threw himself on his band mates and Oli and everyone he could see, thanking them profusely. And then he found Harry. 

Harry was just standing there, looking down at some of the pictures he’d taken, a small smile playing around his mouth. 

“Harold!” Louis cried, and Harry looked up as Louis flung his arms around Harry’s neck. 

“Hey, Lou,” Harry said with a chuckle that vibrated in his chest, making Louis’ skin tingle. 

“We fucking did it!” Louis cried, pretty sure he was deafening Harry, but he didn’t care. He just had so much emotion, so much happiness in him that he had to share it. He finally let Harry go and smacked a kiss to Harry’s cheek before he really thought it through. 

When he pulled away, realization bringing him back to earth, Harry’s eyes were comically wide and his fingers were grazing his cheek where Louis’ lips had been moments before. To Louis, it seemed like all the noise surrounding them was suddenly a dull buzzing, that it was just himself and Harry in their own bubble, the tension between them heightened by Louis’ keyed up emotions. 

Louis might have done it. He might have kissed Harry right then and there, and fuck it if anyone saw. He was so sure that Harry was feeling the same, because they seemed to move more into each other’s space in slow motion. 

“Louis! Drinks quick and then the hotel!” Oli hollered behind him, and Oli’s hand on his shoulder tore him from the moment. He stared at Harry for a second more, both of them holding their breath, and then he was pulled away, leaving Harry standing there. But their last gaze said more than words could ever say. They were going to be continuing whatever that was later, and heat zinged through Louis’ veins. 

Their toast to the end of the leg was short lived, but Louis saw Harry on the outskirts, snapping a few last minute pictures, and that made him feel better. He liked knowing where Harry was, especially here, especially tonight. And Louis knew that Harry’s pictures of Michael spilling his beer on Zak and Steve encouraging it would definitely make his end of tour collection, without a doubt. 

The silence when they finally made it back to the buses was deafening, and Louis' ears still rang from the show as he collected his things, preparing to move them off the bus and into the hotel when they arrived. Harry had apparently already packed all his things, as there were two cases sitting on one of the swivel chairs and all of his things were missing from the bathroom. 

Harry clambered onto the bus just as the engine started, and they were off. Louis threw the last of his clothes into his bag and zipped it shut, tossing it onto the sofa as Harry sat down in the other swivel chair, packing up his camera bag. 

They didn’t speak, but Louis could feel the electricity in the air between them. His entire body was aching for something, anything to happen. If he had to, he’d drag Harry from his own hotel room and kiss him senseless. Judging by Harry’s eyes flickering to Louis every so often, Louis could tell Harry felt it too. Wanted it too. It was just a matter of time, because Louis was sure they both knew that nothing could happen on this bus right now, or they’d never get off. 

Louis opened one of the bus windows quickly and stuck his head out, waving to the fans that had waited outside. Every yell of his name, every excited laugh or scream, made him feel like he was on top of the world. He loved his job so much. 

When they pulled up to the hotel, Louis was to wait until JD came with the key cards for himself and Harry, and then proceed in through the back. JD was efficient and handed Louis the keys through the cracked door, and Louis turned around, placing Harry’s on the table. 

“I just have to grab one more thing, Lou,” Harry said slowly, his voice having taken on this deeper tone that Louis could only describe as something akin to want, to lust. “I’ll settle in and then … come to yours?”

His words, at least to Louis, sounded weighted with meaning, and he nodded much harder and faster than he should have, slinging his bag over his shoulder and following JD into the hotel. It was a very nice place, open and glittering even at the late hour. Louis proceeded up in the lift to his floor, where he unlocked room 1719, breathing in the smell of cleaning supplies and fresh sheets. A real bed … after four weeks on a bus … not that he didn’t like the bus. He loved that atmosphere, but it would be much easier to be in bed with Harry if there was room for two of them.

He flopped down on his back and closed his eyes, taking himself back to the stage, to his fans, to the highest he’d ever felt. He couldn’t believe he got to do this for the rest of his life. And, hopefully, maybe, Harry might consider making this a permanent gig. That’s if Louis got up the courage to ask him, that is. They certainly had a lot to talk about, if his suspicions were correct. 

Finally, he picked himself up and pulled his sweaty stage clothes off, pulling on his favorite pair of joggers, which were starting to rip, and an old t-shirt. He washed his face and turned the telly on to some random channel that was playing an old footie match. 

He checked his phone then. It had been about fifteen minutes since he’d gotten here. He thought Harry should be in his room by now - they were right next to each other. He stood up and paced for all of 30 seconds before making a decision. Pocketing his phone and his room key, Louis ventured into the hallway and knocked on the door to 1717. 

“Harry? You in there?” he called, but there was no response. He tried again, and when he didn’t get an answer, he pressed his ear to the door. Not a sound was coming out of that room. It seemed as if he wasn’t in there yet. 

“Hey, Matt, have you seen Harry?” Louis asked as he spotted one of his band members exit their room. Matt shook his head. 

“Nah, mate, I haven’t. Thought he was with you?”

“He had to stay back on the bus for something, but it’s been a while …” Louis said slowly, and Matt shrugged. 

“Maybe he’s down in the lobby with Oli. Oli said he was gonna grab some snacks.”

“Right. Thanks, lad,” Louis called over his shoulder, already headed towards the lifts. He bounced up and down on his toes as the lift descended, and nearly ran right into Oli as he came off the lift. 

“Louis, look what I got at the … what?”

“Have you seen Harry?”

Oli’s expression changed from delight to confusion. “Umm … no? He was on your bus, was he not?”

“Yeah, but he had to hang back to grab something. I knocked on his door, but no answer.”

“You sure he wasn’t in the shower?”

“I didn’t hear any running water, but …” Louis looked up as JD and Joni approached him. 

“That’s everyone, Lou. Just give us a call if you need to go somewhere, yeah?” Joni said, and JD nodded, clapping Louis on the shoulder before they both disappeared to the lifts. 

Louis was starting to get a bit panicky now, and Oli, thank god, could read him like a book, because he put a hand on Louis’ arm and squeezed, bringing Louis’ spinning mind to a halt. 

“Come on. Let’s go check outside. Maybe he’s chatting with some fans or something.”

Louis thought that was highly unlikely, but he went anyway, shivering as his bare feet hit the now damp ground outside. It had started to rain, the drops hitting Louis’ skin with cold precision. 

Luckily for Louis, there weren’t any fans outside the hotel, but that just made him worry more. 

“If he’s not out here, and he’s not in there, and he’s not on the bus, then …” Oli began, and Louis finished the sentence.

“Where is he?”

The rain persisted as they made their way around the front area of the hotel, but there was no sign of him. Louis even went as far as to check the bus area - the drivers were being put up for the night too before returning to the company tomorrow, so the buses were still here. Louis’ bus driver was just locking up.

“Hey, mate, so sorry to bother you,” Louis started, hurrying up to him, and the man, Kurt, smiled kindly. “Have you seen Harry Styles?  The photographer who was sharing this bus?”

Kurt shook his head. “No, Mr. Tomlinson, not recently. He did get off the bus with all his stuff, but I didn’t see him enter the hotel. That’s all I know.”

Louis ran his hand through his now wet hair, tugging at it anxiously. “Thanks anyway.”

“Wait, wait,” Kurt said, and he turned to Louis, handing him something cold and metal. “I know how much you like being on the bus, how you make it feel like home. If you can’t sleep inside tonight, you’re welcome to sleep on the bus. I’ll collect the key tomorrow before I leave.”

Louis gripped the key and gave Kurt a smile as he walked away, but the smile slid off his face as he looked around the wet car park. Oli was standing a bit away, calling Harry’s name. Louis felt sick. Where was he? Where could he have gone? 

He moved towards Oli. “Kurt said he got off the bus but didn’t go inside. Why?”

Oli shrugged. “No idea. It doesn’t make any sense. He wouldn’t have just … gone home, would he?”

“No … no, he wouldn’t. He was going to meet me … he said he’d see me in my room, but he never showed …” Louis swallowed hard. “It’s possible he’s blowing me off, that he doesn’t want-”

“No, Lou, that can’t be right. I’ve seen him around you. If he doesn’t want you, then I’m the queen of England. He’s got to be around here somewhere.”

They set off once more, splitting up and canvassing both sides of the hotel. Louis looked in bushes, at benches, even in a small gazebo, but Harry was nowhere to be found. He made it all the way back to the front, his clothes now plastered to his body with rain, when his phone buzzed. Pulling it out and hurrying under an overhang so his phone wouldn’t get more wet than it already was, he saw a message from Oli. 

Oli: Found him. Get here now, other side of the building.

Louis’ heart thudded in his chest as he set off at a sprint, the rain now pounding down on the pavement and on him, getting in his eyes and his mouth, but he didn’t care. He skittered to a halt, the bottoms of his feet scraping on the ground as he saw Oli waving his arms wildly next to the dumpster and hurried over to him. 

Sure enough, there was Harry, sitting with his knees pulled up to his chest, not moving. He was completely soaked, which told Louis that he must have been out here for a while. 

Niall was there, crouched down next to him, but it was clear that he had no idea what to do.

“What the hell happened?” Louis asked harshly, and Niall stood, clearly unnerved. 

“I found him like this. I tried to get his attention, tried to help him up. I thought he was injured or something, but he wouldn’t let me get near him. I didn’t know what to do, and then I saw Oli and flagged him down.” Niall said, his confusion evident on his face.  Louis didn’t really know what to do either. This was not something he’d been prepared for, not after the events of just an hour ago. Whatever was wrong, it was bad - Louis had never seen Harry like this.

“It’s okay, Niall, we’ve got him. Go get out of this rain,” Louis said, sounding a lot calmer and more confident than he was. Niall nodded and ran off in the direction of the door, leaving Louis and Oli standing over a still motionless Harry. Louis knelt down to his level, hoping for some kind of recognition. 

“Harry? Are you hurt?” Louis yelled over the rain, reaching out to put a hand on Harry’s shoulder. He knew Harry might pull away, and was prepared for it, but Harry jerked away from him so hard that he almost hit his head on the dumpster. Louis yanked his hand away, looking hopelessly at Oli. 

“Fuck, what do we do?”

Oli stood suddenly. “You stay with him, see if you can get him to move inside or talk or anything. I’m calling Liam.”

Oli moved away a few paces, pulling his phone out, and Louis moved closer to Harry, trying to assess what might be wrong. He didn’t look physically injured, but his eyes were wide staring into nothing, and he was holding onto his own arms so tightly that his knuckles were bone white. His body was shaking, whether with cold or something else entirely, Louis didn’t know, and that terrified him.

Louis wracked his brain, trying to figure out what could facilitate such a reaction. He’d been fine on the bus. Happy, even. Intentional in wanting to meet Louis. Louis had left him alone for 15 minutes and somehow this had happened. 

He sat down on the ground next to him, wanting to comfort him with touch but not wanting to make him any more upset than he seemed to be. He could see how fast Harry’s breaths were, almost thought he could hear him wheezing over the rain. He was panicking and there was nothing Louis could do. 

“Liam? Liam, can you hear me? Sorry, it’s raining,” Oli shouted and Louis could hear Liam’s voice, distant even on speaker. 

“Yeah, yeah, what’s up? Why are you outside?”

“Harry. We … found him outside the hotel. I don’t know how long he’s been out here, but we’re all soaked and he’s freaking out. What do we do?”

“What do you mean, freaking out? Is he hurt?” Liam’s voice was concerned now, and Louis mentioned for Oli to bring him the phone. 

“Liam, this is Louis. I’m with Harry now, but he’s … he doesn’t look hurt, but he’s just sitting out here. He’s not moving, he won’t let me touch him, he won’t even talk to me.” Louis was aware he was verging on panicking himself now, and he tried to control his own breathing, getting himself under control. Harry was the priority right now. 

“Where are you?” Liam asked, and Louis looked at Oli. As his manager, Oli was better at names and places than he was. Oli took the phone back from him.

“We’re at the Park Royal Hotel.”

There was a moment of silence, and then Liam said, his voice lower and laced with something that sounded an awful lot like fear. “The … The Park Royal? You’re sure?”

“Yeah, why?” Oli asked, and Louis braced himself, knowing that whatever Liam was about to say couldn’t be good. 

“That’s where Beau … where we lost him.”

Louis felt like the entire bottom just fell out of his world. He remembered it now, just a vague quick memory of the name appearing in an article he’d read what seemed like a lifetime ago. He was going to be sick. 

“What do we do? He won’t answer when I talk to him, I can’t … we can’t just stay out here,” Louis said, his voice barely audible over the rain. Oli repeated the question, and Liam answered quickly.

“He’s going to fight you, but you need to hold him. He … he might try to hurt himself, or you, but just hold him so he can hear your heartbeat. Once he starts responding, get him somewhere dry.” 

Louis nodded and took a deep breath before reaching around Harry and pulling him between his legs, back to chest. 

The wailing sound Harry made at the movement was like a stab to the chest, but Louis pulled him close, holding him even as he thrashed and tried to get away. 

“Harry, it’s me, it’s Louis. Your Louis. I need you to relax for me, please,” Louis said, his voice trembling. 

“Don’t … don’t make me. I can’t …” Harry gasped, clawing at Louis’ hands and arms. Louis felt the skin break in places, but he refused to let go.

“Listen to my heart, H. You can do it now. Breathe when you feel my chest rise and fall,” Louis encouraged, but tears were now sliding steadily down his cheeks. He tried to breathe regularly, hoping Harry missed the hitch at the end of each breath. 

“He’s … well, he said something, at least,” Oli relayed to Liam. 

“Good. Keep talking to him. Let him know you’re there and narrate what you’re doing. That should help. Now get out of that rain, you’ll all catch a cold if you stay out much longer. I’m on my way. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

Oli hung up and pocketed his phone, getting down to where Louis sat, back against the dumpster, Harry in his lap. Louis was openly crying now, his tears mixing with the rain on his cheeks, so Oli spoke for him. 

“Harry, we need to get out of the rain. Come on, let Lou help you inside.”

Harry’s reaction was immediate - his body went rigid and his breathing picked up again, and he shook his head violently. 

“No. No, no no …”

“H, we c-can’t stay out here,” Louis stuttered, his teeth starting to chatter. 

“Can’t … I can’t …” Harry whimpered, repeating his words from earlier. 

“I don’t think we’re gonna get him to go into the hotel,” Louis said lowly to Oli. 

“Where can you take him?” 

That’s when Louis remembered the bus key in his pocket. “I’ll take him to the bus. Look,” he said, fishing the metal key and his room key out with difficulty, not wanting to let Harry go. “The driver gave me the key in case I wanted to stay in it one more night. You go up and get my stuff and I’ll … I’ll get him on the bus instead. And meet you at the door so you don’t get more wet.”

Oli was up in an instant and Louis handed him the room key. Oli disappeared into the rain before Louis turned his attention to Harry, who was shaking violently and clutching at his own arms, nails digging in hard. 

“No, H, don’t do that,” Louis said as softly as he could, pulling Harry’s hands away from his arms. “Listen, love. We are going to get out of this rain. No, not the hotel,” Louis assured him as Harry started struggling away from him once more. “We’re gonna get back on the bus. The bus is safe, yeah?”

It took what felt like an eternity for Harry to nod, and Louis gave him a little squeeze. “I need you to stand up with me. Can we do that?”

Louis struggled to his feet, using the dumpster to help, and he pulled Harry up with him, looping Harry’s arm around his shoulder so Harry could lean on him. They stumbled through the sheets of rain and reached the bus just as the first rumble of thunder echoed. Louis fumbled with the key until he got the door unlocked and then dragged Harry onto the bus and out of the rain. 

He got Harry to the sofa and put him down, wiping his own dripping hair out of his face. The sound of the rain was dulled now that they were sequestered on the bus, and Louis could more clearly hear Harry’s panicked breathing. His lips were tinged with blue and his green eyes were swollen. He looked absolutely defeated.

Louis reached above Harry’s head, hoping and praying that the emergency towels were still up there, and when his hand found cotton, he said a silent prayer of thanks to anyone listening. 

He toweled his hair dry roughly and then held out a towel to Harry. Harry didn’t move to grab it. He was starting to breathe normally again, but he seemed to have lost all of his will to move. Louis reached forward with the towel, and when Harry didn’t flinch away from him, he started patting his hair and neck dry. 

“There you are,” Louis said in a soft voice, brushing the towel over Harry’s face one more time. Both of them were still shivering, but Louis didn’t have any of his other clothes with him and he didn’t know where Harry’s stuff had ended up. A pang of terror went through him at the thought of Harry’s camera bag out in the rain. He had no idea how much a camera like Harry’s cost, but it had to be a lot. 

Louis pushed that away for later and wrapped the towel around Harry’s shoulders. Harry’s gaze was unfocused now as he sat there, letting himself be manhandled. 

“H, I … I need to get my stuff from Oli. I’ll be right back.”

Harry’s hand shot out then, clamping down on Louis’ wrist. He turned back, confused. Harry’s eyes were crazed, terrified. 

“You can’t.”

Louis tried to pry Harry’s fingers away from his wrist as gently as he could. “I’ll just be a minute, tops, and then we can-”

“ No . You … don’t go. Please, I can’t … I can’t lose you too.”

Louis’ eyes filled with tears instantly at Harry’s words. He dropped to one knee and placed his lips on the back of Harry’s hand, still on his wrist. “Harry. I promise you. I will be right back. You can watch from the door of the bus if that makes you feel better.” He kissed Harry’s hand again. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Harry released him, but he looked distraught, and as Louis made his way to the bus door, he heard Harry follow him, so close that Louis could feel his breath on the back of his neck. He turned at the last minute and pressed his forehead to Harry’s, rubbing along his cheek with a thumb. It was a bold move, but it was all he could do not to kiss him everywhere until he felt better, until he was no longer scared. 

“I’m coming right back.”

Harry blinked hard, squeezing a few lone tears out, and Louis walked out into the now misting rain. Oli was waiting for him at the back door of the hotel, and he had Louis’ bags and, somehow, Harry’s camera bag. He opened the door to hand them to Louis. 

“I don’t know if the camera is ok, but I saw it and figured he might want it,” Oli said, and Louis merely nodded in thanks. “Is he …”

“He’s alright for now, but I don’t know … it could get worse. He almost broke my wrist to prevent me from coming back to get my stuff. He said …'' Louis felt his throat tighten. “He said he didn’t want to lose me too.”

“Fuck, Louis … do you want me to go with you?”

Louis wiped at his eyes furiously. “No, no, I think … too many people might overwhelm him. Just keep me updated if Liam says anything, where he is, etc. I think Liam was gonna pick him up from the hotel tomorrow anyway, but now …”

“I got you, mate. Good luck.”

Louis hurried back across the car park to the open bus door where Harry was standing, his bottom lip between his teeth as he waited anxiously. Louis climbed the steps and closed the door behind him, and Harry stayed close, not saying anything. 

Pulling fresh clothes out of his bag, he turned to offer some to Harry. “Here. Let’s get into something dry. Then we can … talk, yeah? Like you wanted to?”

Louis was certain that, had they chosen a different hotel, any other hotel, they would be having a very different talk than the one they were probably about to have, but Harry still agreed, taking the clothes from Louis and starting to strip right there. Louis looked away, but not before he caught sight of an enormous butterfly tattoo on Harry’s stomach and laurel leaves framing his hips. 

When they were both in fresh clothes and their wet ones discarded in the shower where they could drip dry, Louis hoisted Harry’s camera bag onto the table and unzipped it, fearing the worst. 

“It’s waterproof,” Harry’s voice said from behind him, and he jumped. “It looks wet, but … it’s safe.”

Harry looked horrible, there was no other way to describe it. His skin was white, devoid of its usual rosiness, and his wet hair did nothing to help the stark contrast of it. His eyes were still puffy, and his bottom lip, while it had regained color, was split and bleeding slightly from where he’d bitten it. Louis’ clothes were far too small for him - the joggers ended mid-calf and the shirt was obscenely tight. His arms had small scratches on them, but luckily none of them were bleeding. 

“Hey … you wanna sit with me?” Louis asked, taking a seat on the sofa and wincing as his arm, which he only now realized was covered in the same scratches, some deeper than others, brushed up against the fabric of the sofa.  

Harry sat on the very edge of the sofa, stiff and staring ahead at nothing. Louis knew that, if he wanted answers, if he wanted to figure out how to help Harry, he had to start this conversation. He just didn’t know how. 

They sat there for god knows how long, but Louis didn’t want to force Harry to say anything, not if Harry wasn’t ready. And even if they didn’t talk, if he didn’t get any answers, he still had to be here for Harry, stay with him until he was alright again. 

When Louis next checked his phone, it had been almost an hour, and he swallowed. Maybe Harry was waiting for permission? He decided to risk it. 

“So …”

“I woke up next to him.”

Harry’s voice was so broken, but it was louder than Louis’, and Louis clamped his mouth shut, listening. 

“He liked to cuddle. And we fell asleep like that a lot. And that morning, I woke up and he was so cold. It didn’t make sense, because he had always run warm.”

Harry’s words were coming out mechanically, short and devoid of emotion, and Louis shuddered.

“I was … hungover and I didn’t understand. Thought someone left a window open, but I didn’t feel cold. And then Liam woke up, and he shoved Beau, and Beau didn’t move. His chest wasn’t rising or falling. He just … he was gone.”

Louis could see the tears sliding down Harry’s cheeks, but he didn’t dare reach out. Harry’s aversion to touch most times was making a horrible amount of sense. To wake up with dead skin touching yours … Louis felt ill, and knew that his touch would do nothing to soothe Harry right now.

“Liam started screaming, he was … and I don’t know what happened, I just went numb. I stood and moved his arm off me and called 999. And I sat on the bed.” Harry’s breath hitched and he turned his watery gaze to Louis, who now felt his own tears sliding down his cheeks. “I don’t remember much. Liam didn’t stop screaming. He was crying. He was broken. And I couldn’t understand why I didn’t feel … anything.”

“Harry …” Louis began, but he was, for once, at a complete loss for words. 

“This place, it … it brought it all back. I didn’t know we were staying here. I didn’t think to look. And walking off the bus, seeing the sign, the neon lights, the last place he was outside, that he ever saw …” 

“It wasn’t your fault, Harry,” Louis finally managed to say, but he still didn’t reach out. He felt frozen. 

“But it was.” Harry’s voice had hardened. “It was every bit my fault. And Liam’s fault.”

“You didn’t kill him, Harry. Drugs did. He took too much.”

“But so did we. We took them too!” Harry was yelling now and Louis flinched at the intensity of his voice. “We were all fucking high, Louis. If I hadn’t been … if I’d just refused … I could have saved him. I could have noticed when he stopped breathing. I could have done something … anything …”

Louis couldn’t take it anymore. He reached out and pulled Harry into a hug. To his surprise, Harry fell into his embrace, breaking. His sobs were loud, his entire body shaking as tears cascaded down his cheeks, soaking Louis’ shirt just as thoroughly as the rain did. 

“I … I encouraged him. W-we tried it all, together. And in the end it killed him,” Harry cried, and Louis just held him tighter, hoping Harry couldn’t feel Louis’ own tears dripping onto his head, into his hair. 

“There was nothing you could have done, Harry. Please. Don’t blame yourself.”

“It could have been Liam, or me. It … it should have been me.”

Louis couldn’t hold back his own sobs any longer, and he held Harry tighter, burying his face in Harry’s hair and crying right along with him. 

“Fuck, don’t … don’t say that, please ,” he whispered.

“It should have been me.”

He kept saying it, over and over, and every time Louis’ heart broke more. But he didn’t let Harry go. He didn’t think he could have if he tried. 

They stayed like that, curled up together and crying, for a long time. There was a lot of pain to be shed, and Louis felt like he’d been wrung out like a sponge by the time he finally regained his composure.

“Alright, H?”

Harry shrugged. “I miss him so much.”

Louis said nothing, instead opting to run his hand up and down Harry’s spine in what he hoped was a calming gesture. There were so many things he wanted to say, but he didn’t even know where to start, so he just stayed where he was, trying to sort through his befuddled brain.

“I … gave up photography after that. Just touching my camera felt like a betrayal. I didn’t truly sleep for months. Liam kept telling me to go to therapy but I didn’t think it would help … I didn’t think I deserved it.”

Louis dropped a kiss into Harry’s hair. “I get that, in a way, but … why did you agree to do this for me?”

“I missed it. The feeling. The adrenaline. The atmosphere. Creating memories for fans and artists alike. It was my second chance to make a difference. And I took it.”  

“I’m so proud of you, you know?” Louis said, giving Harry a small squeeze. “You could have said no. I wouldn’t have been offended. But you came on this tour. You came here, to this place. You … you make me want to be braver. The courage that must have taken.”

“I don’t feel it,” Harry mumbled. 

“You don’t have to right now. You just deserve to hear it.”

Harry was quiet then, but Louis knew he’d heard, and now that he’d said that, his thoughts seemed to come back around to the unspoken. The elephant in the room. The thing that had been growing between them since the moment they met in that tea shop. 

“Harry … what you said earlier? About not wanting to lose me?” Louis whispered, and Harry’s head came up off Louis’ shoulder, his nose runny and his eyes red. Louis took a deep breath. “You can’t.”

“C-can’t what?”

“You can’t lose me. I don’t want to be anywhere else, I just want to be here with you.”

Louis could hardly believe he was admitting that to anyone aloud, even himself. Harry wiped at his eyes, his nose, his cheeks, his gaze never leaving Louis’.

“What … what do you mean by that?” Harry breathed, and Louis could feel his cheeks heating up. But it was now or never. He had to tell Harry the truth. 

“I mean exactly what I said. Fuck, I … I care about you so much. I really think I could lo-”

It took Louis approximately three seconds to figure out why he’d stopped talking, and then it occurred to him that Harry’s lips were on his. Harry was kissing him. Harry was kissing him. Harry was kissing him . 

Louis had barely begun to kiss back before Harry pulled away, his gaze averted. “I … I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have … that was so stupid …” He gripped his hair in his hands, tugging at it, and Louis reached out to take his hands away. 

“It’s alright, love. I … liked it.” Louis let Harry’s hands go and instead tangled his fingers in Harry’s hair, cradling his head and his face. “Harry …”

“Louis, please …” Harry whispered, and Louis closed the gap between them, sealing their mouths together in a gentle kiss. 

Louis had been right - Harry’s lips were just as soft as they looked. Kissing him was like laying down after a really long day and just letting your body relax. It was like cold water in the blistering hot sun. It was like Louis had been searching for the one missing puzzle piece for years and had finally found it. 

Louis licked gently at Harry’s lips and they parted for him with a soft moan from Harry, whose hands had now slipped onto Louis’ waist, pulling him in closer, which was exactly what Louis wanted right now. 

“Harry … fuck, you’re so …” Louis breathed against Harry’s mouth between kisses and swipes of their tongues. Harry was so responsive, so eager, and Louis could feel himself becoming affected. 

“Louis,” Harry groaned into his mouth, his large hands tightening on Louis’ waist, nearly pulling him into his lap. 

“Wait … wait, we have to stop,” Louis said breathlessly, pulling away reluctantly from Harry’s hold. Harry sat there, lips bright pink and wet, his pupils blown, and all Louis wanted to do was kiss him till he couldn’t feel his own lips, but they couldn’t. “It’s … been a rough night. For both of us. I don’t want to … I want to do this right. And I don’t think we should … not tonight. Is that okay?”

Harry’s answering smile was small, but present. “I get it, Lou. I agree. I just … I’ve been waiting for a while. Basically since the second I saw you, if I’m honest.”

Louis laughed quietly. “I could say the same.” He leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to Harry’s cheek. “Let’s sleep. We can talk more in the morning.”

Harry nodded and curled up right there on the sofa, leaving space behind him for Louis. Louis settled into his position as Harry’s big spoon, and even though they’d only done this twice now, he felt like it was right where he belonged. 

“Thank you,” Harry said, his voice betraying his fatigue. “For … being here.  You make me feel safe.”

“Always,” Louis said back, stifling a yawn and carding his hand through Harry’s now dry hair. “You’re always safe with me.”

________

Louis woke alone the next morning. He sat up, scrubbing a hand over his face, and a makeshift towel blanket fell off his shoulders and landed on the floor. Harry was nowhere to be seen. 

“Harry?” Louis called, but no answer came. Louis stood and ambled into the bathroom, peeking around the door. A pile of damp clothes was still sitting there. Louis frowned and walked the whole length of the bus, checking behind the curtains on the bunks and in the driver’s seat, but he finally came to the conclusion that he was definitely alone. 

Harry’s camera bag was missing too, but there was no note, no indication of where he’d gone. He opened the bus door and looked outside into the bright morning. Not a soul was in the car park other than himself. 

Now he was worried. He grabbed his phone and texted Harry, but when the message clicked over to read and he didn’t receive an answer, he dialed Oli’s number. He picked up before the first ring was even finished. 

“Louis …”

“Is Harry with you?” Louis asked, and Oli sighed. Louis straightened up from where he’d been folding the towels on the floor. “What?”

“Liam left with him an hour ago. They’re gone.”

Louis dropped the towels. “Gone? Gone where?”

“I don’t know, I just … Liam was with me and he got a call from Harry and he left. Texted me ten minutes later that he was gonna be driving for a bit.”

“Did he say … why?”

The silence on the other end wasn’t helping his rising anxiety. 

“No. Just that Harry needed to get away.”

“I have to go,” Louis said shortly, and before Oli could say another word, he hung up, his phone dropping to the floor. Everything they’d shared the night before, the confessions and the kisses and the cuddling … it had been for nothing, apparently. 

Louis thought he’d felt like shit the previous night, listening to Harry recount Beau’s death. That had been bad, for sure. But this, this confusion and heartbreak, the ending of something before it was anything at all, was far worse. 

____________

H.

Harry truly hated that he had spent all of two nights in Louis’ arms and now he couldn’t sleep without him. 

But then again, he, Harry, was the one that left him on that bus and got away from there as quickly as he could manage without so much as telling Louis where he was going. 

The frantic texts and calls had stopped on the second day, not that Harry was checking. In some ways, it was a relief. Without Louis constantly blowing up his phone, Harry could convince himself that he’d done the right thing, the safest thing for both of them. But in others, every second that passed where he wasn’t with Louis hurt him just a little bit more. 

Because Harry loved him. He wasn’t in love, not yet, but he would have been. He loved how much Louis cared for other people. He loved how Louis had never truly questioned his methods of controlling or not controlling his emotions or his struggles. He loved how fiercely Louis loved his fans and his band and his team. He loved how Louis had been there for him for everything, through everything, giving him the best gift he could have ever asked for - a return to his dream. And he loved their friendship. And he had wanted more. He still did. He wanted everything, but he couldn’t have it. 

Liam had been gracious enough to let Harry stay with him. Harry hadn’t wanted to go back to his empty flat. He knew what would happen if he did, and so did Liam. And so he’d been sleeping on Liam’s sofa for the last three days, only getting up to make food and use the bathroom. He felt disgusting, but he had no motivation for anything. And he could tell Liam was getting fed up.

“H, come on, you need to get a shower,” Liam said, waking him softly from a pathetic attempt at a nap. When Harry refused to move, Liam pulled the blanket away from his face. 

“Alright, this is ridiculous. Get up.”

“Why?” Harry snapped, but he sat up anyway, his back aching. 

Liam huffed and turned his annoyed expression to Harry. “Because all you’ve done since we got back is lay here, and I don’t get it. You left him hanging, Harry. You made that decision, and I assumed you did so for your own well-being, but I’m seeing none of that. Imagine how he’s taking it. He’s been messaging me now, as has Oli. They’re worried!”

“I did what I had to. You know that. That doesn’t mean I wanted to,” Harry shot back, the pain in his lower back making him more irritable. 

“Quite frankly, I don’t care if you didn’t want to. You haven’t been to therapy this week. Irene called to see where you were when you fucking skipped your session yesterday.”

“I wasn’t feeling up to it, alright?” 

“But that’s the whole point of therapy! It’s supposed to help you navigate the days when you ‘aren’t feeling up to it’. And you just …”

Harry pulled his blanket around him, turning over so he could lay the other way. “I don't need a lecture right now, Liam. This isn’t something I really feel like talking about.”

Liam stood now, his eyes stormy. “I don’t care. You need to talk about it. Because you did exactly this when Beau died and look where it fucking got you!”

“Don’t you dare bring him into this,” Harry was yelling now, but he looked away from Liam. His anger was fading, making way for something a little more like shame. He didn’t like it. He didn’t want to feel that. Anger was better. Easier. 

“Oh, I’m gonna. Because you’re being a twat and you know it, and somehow the burden has fallen, yet again, on me to help you get your head out of your ass!”

Harry fell silent at that. The words that he’d longed to spew at Liam, defences to his choices and his actions, now seemed pathetically feeble and just plain stupid. 

“Sure, you have nothing to say now, right? Because you know I’m right.” Liam wasn’t letting up. He was now pacing in front of Harry, and Harry felt his throat tighten. “I know what Beau’s death did to you. Because it did the same to me. But while I went and dealt with my pain, you held it in until you nearly lost yourself, and that … that was fucking terrifying to watch, Harry.”

“Li, I … I didn’t mean to scare you …” Harry began, not sure what he would even say, but Liam held up a hand. 

“Intention is only half of it, H. Just let me finish. Because you need to hear this.” Liam stopped and sat down next to Harry, his expression less murderous. “I don’t fully understand why you did what you did, but I supported you in it because I thought you’d learned how to make healthy decisions for yourself. When Louis asked you to go on tour with him, as hard as saying yes to that was, you did it. And you loved being on tour again.” Liam exhaled. “I wanted to believe you were making the right choice for you. But we both know that’s not true. You’re miserable without him, and you haven’t touched your camera since we got back. You didn’t even post the last show on your Instagram, and that’s part of your job! You removed every part of your life that was bringing you any kind of joy. Why?”

Harry felt his feelings rise up to the surface, the heartbreak and the longing and the guilt, that ever present guilt, and he just shook his head, pressing his lips together in a hard line.

“Harry … please talk to me. Don’t push me away,” Liam whispered, and Harry felt the first tear fall, splashing onto his blanket covered lap. 

“I didn’t want to lose him.” 

“You left, though. And you won’t talk to him. How is that …” Liam questioned, and Harry forced himself to look up at Liam, despite being barely able to see through the tears that had come far too readily. 

“I loved Beau. I let him live his life the way he wanted, went along with it, and then he fucked up and we couldn’t help him. If I let myself … if I love Louis … he’ll get hurt too. Something will happen. I’ll lose him too and I can’t do that again, I can’t , Liam, you have to understand …”

Harry felt Liam’s arms around him and he let himself fall into that embrace, wishing it was Louis. 

“Harry, listen to me. You aren’t going to lose Louis. Not like that. He’s not like Beau in that way - he doesn’t do drugs just for the hell of it. Beau did, and you know that. And his ignorance and attitude towards that entire culture is what killed him. It wasn’t you, do you understand that? It wasn’t me either. And you can’t keep blaming yourself for it.”

Louis had said as much to Harry that night on the bus. Harry had heard it, but he hadn’t felt it, not really. Liam repeating those words made him feel it, just a little. He put his head on Liam’s shoulder and sniffed, listening as his friend kept talking. 

“Loving someone after trauma is hard. You see things in them that, most of the time, aren’t there. You’re seeing your past, not your present.”

“Irene says that a lot,” Harry mumbled, and he could feel Liam nodding. 

“She does. And she’s right. You’re allowed to have feelings for someone, to let them in. Beau’s death is your past. But Louis could be your future, and you deserve that. You deserve to be happy.”

Harry wanted to believe Liam more than anything. He wanted to have the confidence to go and apologize to Louis and tell him he made a terrible mistake and he never should have left and that he wanted to be with him. He wanted that for himself. 

But he couldn’t have it.

Harry lifted his head from Liam’s shoulder and looked at his friend. “Li, I … appreciate what you’re saying. But I just don’t think I can do it.”

Liam cocked his head to the side. “Is this about him … you know, not being out? Cause I’d get that - it wouldn’t be easy to be a secret when you’ve been open for so long …”

Harry stared at Liam like he had six heads. “What? No, of course not! I don’t care about that. I … I think he deserves better.”

Liam looked like he was going to say something, but he didn’t. He just stood, offering his hand to Harry. 

“If that’s what you want, then I’ll support you. But for the love of god, take a shower.”

Harry discarded his blanket and headed for the bathroom per Liam’s request. Liam had said his piece and Harry had said his. Now all he could do was try to forget how safe and loved Louis had made him feel. 

________

It didn’t work. 

Harry had gotten his shower and gone about his day from there, forcing all thoughts of Louis from his mind, but it was easier said than done. Louis had infiltrated every part of his existence. 

Washing his hair? He remembered the one time Louis had used his shampoo by accident and he’d gone around all day smelling like a fruit basket. Harry had loved that. 

Shaving his four days of patchy facial hair? Louis had loved to mess around with him and the other band members when they shaved, calling them baby faced man children. 

Making food for himself? Louis had always complained about Harry’s morning smoothies, but he had never denied the food Harry sometimes made for him.

He even did his laundry, which just resulted in finally washing the clothes he’d borrowed from Louis that night. Harry had held the recently dried shirt to his face, smelling it. It still had the faintest hint of that scent that made Louis Louis . 

This went on for the next two days, and Harry could tell that Liam knew something was off, but neither of them were acknowledging it. After their argument the other day, Harry was very keen not to be yelled at by Liam again, no matter how right Liam had been about everything. It would only bring up his feelings for Louis, which he could not have and which he was trying to get rid of, and that would be counterproductive. 

It was on the sixth day after the tour ended that Harry came out of the bathroom, freshly showered and hoping to get some decent sleep, that he caught Liam on the phone with Oli, and he stopped in the small hallway to listen. 

“No, Ol, I’m sorry, love, but I can’t. He doesn’t want to talk to him.” 

A pause. 

“Trust me, I tried. He says that he can’t lose Louis and therefore this is the best way to ensure that … I know. That’s what I said too, but he’s made up his mind.”  

There was a longer pause this time, where Harry assumed Oli was trying to plead his case on Louis’ behalf. His heart clenched in his chest and he inched closer, trying to hear. 

“I wish there was more I could do for him. I’m just trying to respect what Harry wants … yeah, course I still love you. Harry being stubborn won’t stop me … yeah, we can get lunch tomorrow, sure. And … yeah, that … that should work.”

Liam said a few more things that definitely weren’t meant for Harry’s ears, and Harry announced himself by coughing loudly. Liam looked up, his cheeks a little redder than usual, and said his goodbyes, hanging up and making his way out of the kitchen and into the main room. 

“So … what do you wanna watch tonight?” Liam asked, flopping down in his chair, and Harry looked over at him sheepishly. 

“I’m sorry my stubbornness is causing issues with you and Oli.”

Liam looked at him quickly. “What? You’re not!”

“I heard you talking. I know Louis has been asking about me and Oli has somehow become this middle man, and me not wanting to see Louis is keeping you apart.” Harry hated admitting to his eavesdropping, but the surge of guilt he’d felt at hearing their conversation wasn’t letting him keep anything inside. 

“Oli and I are alright, H, I promise. He’s just worried about Louis.” Liam hesitated before continuing. “Apparently he’s not handling this very well.”

Harry didn’t want to know. He didn’t. He really, really wanted to move on. But …

“How so?”

Liam looked at Harry with something remarkably like pity. “I guess he’s just really confused. Upset. You guys were on the verge of something … and don’t you dare deny it, anyone with eyes could see it. And at the height of it, you disappeared.”

“I never wanted to hurt him …” Harry mumbled, more to himself than to Liam. 

“Whether you meant to or not, you did. And as much as I want you guys to work this out, I know that’s not what you want. So I’m just trying to remain impartial in this, as is Oli.”

Harry didn’t respond to that, because he knew what he wanted to say was a downright lie. He would give anything for things to be different and for himself and Louis to explore what they might have together. But things were as they were, and that’s how they had to stay. For the safety of Harry’s heart, and for Louis in general.

“We’ll watch some Netflix, then?” Liam asked. Harry started, realizing he’d never actually answered Liam’s first question, and he shrugged. He didn’t really care either way right now. 

________

“Alright, H, Oli should be here any minute. Are you good to make yourself dinner?” Liam asked, and Harry peered over the top of his laptop.

“Liam. I’m a better cook than you. I’ll be just fine.”

Liam gave him the middle finger. “I see your snark is in full swing today.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Well, I need to move forward, so that’s what I’m doing.” He paused, seeing Liam’s face fall just slightly. “Seriously, though, have fun on your date. I hope it goes well.”

“Thanks. I’ll bring you back some chips or something.”

Harry waved him off and concentrated back on his laptop, where he had been trying to open the photoshop app for the last ten minutes. 

This was part of the process. He needed to do his job and edit these pictures and send them off so he could fully move on from Louis. He was still being paid by his team, after all, and he didn’t think Harry Styles Flakes on Tomlinson’s Second World Tour would make a great headline. 

He took a deep breath and clicked on the app. The last picture he’d been editing opened immediately, as if he’d never fully closed out of it. It was a picture from a few shows ago, where two boys who must have been about 17 were standing front row, rainbow flags in their hands, kissing as Louis held his arms out towards the crowd. It was a picture that Harry knew could make history books one day, when people in the music industry were finally free of the burden of the forced closet. Looking at it made his heart ache. Louis had such an impact on those two boys. On all his fans. On Harry. He missed him more than he cared to admit. 

Harry pulled out his camera and plugged it into the side of the laptop, bringing up a whole host of pictures and videos from the last few shows. He clicked on one of the videos and let it play. 

The camera was obviously not in his own possession, as he was right there on the screen. A frisbee appeared in the shot, flying over his head, but he wasn’t paying attention. His hair was everywhere and he was laughing, his head thrown back. 

“Come on, Lou, pay the fuck attention!” came Steve’s voice, and the camera zoomed out to show the object of Harry’s attention.

And there was Louis, cackling just as hard as Harry, and now they were holding onto each other, laughing at some joke that Harry had long forgotten while Louis’ bandmates grumbled and shouted in the background. Harry stared at himself, noting the look of complete adoration on his face, and he swallowed past the lump in his throat. He looked so … in love. There was no other way to describe it. 

Harry closed his laptop hard, putting his head in his hands. He hated how much he missed Louis, how much he craved his presence. This was never supposed to happen. He wasn’t supposed to get attached like this. He’d been perfectly happy, or at least happy enough, being alone for the rest of his life, but Louis had changed everything, and Harry had ruined it quite thoroughly. 

He was starting to see stars with how hard he was pressing on his eyes when there was a pounding on the door. Harry ignored it, figuring it was just some random person trying to sell him something, but when the pounding came again, more urgent this time, Harry stretched and stood up. It was probably Liam - he had this habit of forgetting his keys in random places, and the door automatically locked when it was closed. 

“Liam, how many times do I have to tell you … oh.”

Harry had opened the door expecting Liam. Louis stood there instead.

Harry immediately noted the dark circles under Louis’ eyes and his scruff, which was well on its way to a beard at this point. But the look in his eyes was what got him the most - it was anger. 

Louis pushed past Harry without saying a word, striding into the flat. Harry shut the door quickly, hurrying to catch up with him. 

“Louis, what … why are you here?” Harry asked, unable to think of any other way to phrase that. His voice was shaking. Fuck. 

“Why am I here, that’s a fucking fantastic question, Harry,” Louis bit back, stopping in his tracks and turning sharply to face him. “How about I’m here because someone I cared about, someone I shared a very important moment with, left me alone on a bus after I’d made sure he didn’t freeze to death and didn’t tell me where he was going, and then ignored me for a week. Seriously?”

Harry bit his lip. “Louis, I can exp-”

“Don’t. Don’t even think about finishing that sentence. I already know exactly what your explanation will be,” Louis said, venom lacing every word he spoke. Harry had to admit, he was a bit frightened. He had never seen Louis angry like this, or angry at all, for that matter. This was uncharted territory. 

Louis took a step closer to him, and though everything in Harry told him to back away, he stood his ground, waiting. 

“Let me guess, you left because you didn’t want to burden me with your baggage, right? You thought that pop sensation Louis Tomlinson wouldn’t be able to handle being with someone who’s been through trauma. You thought I’d be better off without you, is that it?”

He’d really hit it right on the head, if Harry was honest. 

“Lou …”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Right. Sorry. Louis. I …” Harry breathed and Louis just looked more annoyed. “I’m not good enough for you. You deserve better, that’s all I was trying to …”

“Oh, so now you decide what’s best for me?”

Harry shook his head, his hair flying into his face. “No, no, that’s not … fuck, I’m messing this up. Beau really fucked me up, okay? His death absolutely ruined my life.”

Louis moved even closer now, his anger now dulled by something else. “Harry, you don’t think I know that? Fuck, I looked it up before you even signed on to be my photographer.”

Harry gaped at him. “You … you did?”

Louis threw his hands up in the air. “Of course I did. And yeah, I didn’t know the full extent of the story, but I know what it’s like to lose someone close to you, someone who gave you everything. It fucking sucks, and it leaves this big scar on your heart that never heals completely.”

Harry wanted to ask, but he didn’t. Now wasn’t the time, and Louis was already moving on from that revelation. 

“All I have wanted for you since the moment I met you was for you to be okay, for you to trust me with your safety, for you to know that you could come to me. And what did you do? You came to me, you trusted me with your story, you kissed me, and then you left. It doesn’t make any sense. Where did I go wrong?”

“You … you didn’t. That’s what I’m trying to say. You were … are … perfect.” Harry was so desperate for Louis to understand that he reached out for him, grabbing his hand. “I’m the problem, and you shouldn’t have to deal with me, be burdened with me. I can’t put you through that.”

“Well, too little too fucking late, Harry, cause I’m already in it. I’ve held you while you cried. I’ve given you every opportunity to walk away when I thought you might need to. And somewhere during all that, during your moments of burdening me, as you put it, I fell for you.”

Harry had known, of course. He knew deep down that Louis felt the same way for him. For fuck’s sake, Harry knew that if he hadn’t broken down, they would have had sex that night. But hearing him say it in those words, that was a complete shock to his system. Louis noticed his flinch and pulled his hand away from Harry’s, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“That’s right. I fell for you. You, Harry Styles, the photographer who lost everything. I fell for you, tears and fears and all. Nothing about you makes me not want to be with you, so why are you so goddamned determined to prevent this from happening?”

Harry had nothing to say to that. He tried, opening and closing his mouth in an attempt to find some way to refute what Louis was saying, to find some small loophole in his reasoning for why they couldn’t do this, but there was nothing. Harry had just been caught up in his own head, his own past, just like Liam had said. Only now, he was starting to accept that fact, and the crumbling of that wall he’d erected around his decision and his heart felt a lot like drowning. 

“Louis, I’m … I’m sorry, I …” His words wouldn’t come out. He felt like sobbing, but there was still that part of him, becoming smaller and smaller as he looked at Louis, that didn’t want him to see this, didn’t want him to have to deal with the very loose grip he had on his emotions. 

Now Louis was the one reaching out, his hands landing on Harry’s shoulders. “I want to be with you, Harry. I want my opportunity to love you the way you deserve. And I just hope that you want that too.”

“I do …” Harry whispered, and Louis’ lips crashed into his. 

Harry’s last kiss with Louis had been amazing, there was no doubt about it. But this one was nothing short of magical. Harry felt like he was floating even as he pulled Louis to him, hands on his waist, his back, everywhere. 

He didn’t know how long it lasted, how long they were wrapped in each other, but Harry eventually broke away, completely breathless, his heart singing like it hadn't done in a week. He leaned his forehead against Louis’, the moment feeling incredibly intimate. 

“I’m so sorry. For everything. I just … got in my head and I … fuck, I never should have left like that,” he said quietly, moving his hands up to hold Louis’ face. Louis had tears on his cheeks, and Harry brushed them away, just as Louis had done the last time they’d kissed. “I’ll do better. Be better.”

Louis nodded, tilting his head up to brush his lips against Harry’s again. “I know you did what you thought was right. But it hurt. I felt like nothing I did mattered to you, that I was just … disposable.”

“You’re not. You’re anything but. I … shit, I care so much about you, I feel so much … I can’t apologize enough.”

Harry placed gentle kisses all over Louis’ face - his forehead, his temples, his cheeks, his nose, and the corners of his mouth. Louis’ eyes remained closed until Harry pulled away, and then all Harry could see was blue. 

“I meant what I said that night. I want to do this right.”

Harry smiled for the first time in what felt like ages. “Me too.”

It was Harry who initiated the kiss this time, and Louis who pulled them closer. Kissing Louis was everything Harry had ever dreamed it would be. Louis’ lips were thinner than his, but small as they may be, they were skilled. Harry brushed his tongue lightly over Louis’ bottom lip and Louis let out the smallest of gasps, granting Harry entrance to his mouth. 

His hands roamed, moving from Louis’ face to his neck and down over his shoulders, mapping out his body with his fingertips. Louis whimpered into his mouth as Harry’s hands grazed his ass, and his fingers threaded into Harry’s hair, pulling on it in his urgency. Harry felt a thrill of arousal shoot through him and a moan was pulled from his throat.

“Fuck … you like your hair pulled?” Louis said between kisses, and Harry nodded, completely at the mercy of Louis’ hands and lips, the latter of which had moved from his mouth onto his neck, attaching to a spot just below his ear and over his jugular. Harry threw his head back and closed his eyes, giving Louis more room, and Louis nipped at his skin. Harry knew there would be a bruise, and the idea of that, of Louis marking him, made him harder. 

Somehow they found their way to the sofa, and Harry let himself fall backwards, going from standing to sitting to lying down in one swift motion. Louis followed suit, pushing his leg between Harry’s thighs. 

“Shit …” Harry gasped. “Lou, up here, need to kiss you …”

Louis did as Harry asked, but not before placing his hands on either side of Harry’s head, looking down on him with blown pupils, his normally artful fringe a complete mess. “I’m going to do so much to you,” he whispered, kissing him between every word. Harry pulled Louis down by his hips, forcing their cocks to rub together between layers of fabric, and they were both moaning then. 

Harry wanted it all. He wanted Louis to take him right here, right now. He wanted Louis everywhere, and he had not a care in the world as to who saw them. 

“Harry … Harry, fuck we have to … mmm, that feels good,” Louis said breathlessly, grinding his hips down as Harry bucked his, making the friction that much better. 

Harry choked on a groan, his hands tightening on Louis’ hips, but a thought entered his mind, and he couldn’t get rid of it. 

“Lou … Louis, wait,” he managed to say, panting his way through those simple words, and Louis’ lips were off him in an instant, waiting. “If we want to do this right, we should probably … go on a date before we … umm …”

“Have incredible, mind-blowing sex?” Louis finished for him, and Harry laughed, nodding. “You’re right.”

Louis climbed off him and then pulled Harry into a sitting position. They both sat there, waiting for their erections to go down. Harry fidgeted a little, but eventually, he was calm enough to have a conversation. 

“Sorry for interrupting …” he said sheepishly. “Just so you know, I … I wanted to. I still want to. And I’ll want to tonight, and tomorrow, and for a long time, I’m sure. But it’s like … what you said that night on the bus? It’s been emotional and I don’t want to …” 

Louis was breathing deeply, catching his breath. “Me too, H. I got … carried away. You’re just so … beautiful and all.”

Harry blushed furiously. “Umm … thanks?”

Louis smacked him on the arm. “Am I not beautiful too?”

“Of course you are,” Harry reassured him, taking Louis’ hand in his and playing with his fingers. 

“Right then,” Louis said suddenly, standing up and stepping back from Harry completely, away from his grasp. Harry stood too, missing his closeness already. “Harry Styles, will you go on a date with me?”

Harry laughed. “You’re so fucking cheesy, Lou.” Louis leveled him with a look, and though Harry wanted to answer with a resounding yes, there was just one little thing that he had to ask about. “You know I want to say yes, that I’m going to say yes. But I want to make sure this is something you want. I … I don’t care about you not being out. I want to make sure you know that. But do you want to … I mean, since you haven’t talked to your new management yet about it …”

Louis was giving him a look that Harry couldn't quite read, but then he saw tears welling in Louis’ eyes. Harry moved toward him, wanting to hold his hand, hug him, anything. He hated seeing Louis cry.

“I … no one has really asked me that before. Most guys I tried to … they didn’t want anything to do with me when I told them we couldn’t tell anyone, that we had to sign NDAs. But you … god, Harry, this means more than …” Louis wiped at his eyes, laughing at himself. “Look at me, I’m a mess. What I’m trying to say is yes. I’m all in. I was going to have that meeting with them this week anyway. Having a boyfriend might help them realize just how serious I am about it.”

Harry stuttered, “B-boyfriend?”

“Well, I hope so … not right now … after the date, I was going to ask,” Louis said, now flustered, and Harry pulled him into a hug, nearly crushing him in his happiness. 

“Well … then let’s go on that date.”

Louis beamed at him, kissed his cheek, and then hurried to the door and out into the hallway, closing it behind him. Harry stood there, completely confused, until there was a knock at the door, gentle in contrast to how Louis had been hammering on it before. Harry tried to subdue the smile on his face as he opened the door. 

Louis was holding flowers, a mixture of so many kinds that Harry wasn’t even sure where he’d gotten them. 

“Hi, H. Ready for our date?”

Harry wanted to cry. He accepted the flowers and smelled them, the scents heady and overwhelming. “Did you have these out there the whole time?”

Louis shrugged. “I had a feeling I’d be pretty convincing.”

“You’re ridiculous … and you know me pretty well, I guess,” Harry said, walking back into the flat and to the kitchen. He called over his shoulder, “Do I need to change?”

“Nah. You’re perfect. Might wanna fix your hair, though. You look like you’ve been ravished.”

Harry cackled as he deposited the flowers in a vase. “Well, I certainly wouldn't mind that,” he mumbled, but Louis’ smirk told him he’d heard him loud and clear. 

“Later, love.”

Harry shoved on shoes and grabbed his keys, joining Louis in the still open doorway, running a hand through his hair. Louis grabbed his hand and tugged him down the hallway. Harry followed eagerly. 

“Where’re we going?”

Louis turned to look at him, and the angry flash from an hour before was gone, replaced with that mischievous sparkle that Harry loved so much. 

“It’s a surprise. Come on.”

________

Epilogue

Three Months Later

H.

Harry paced anxiously in the hallway of BMG Management, as he had been doing for the last twenty minutes. Louis had been in that meeting a long time, and Harry knew from experience that the longer the meeting was, the more debating was taking place. And after the long negotiations that had occurred while they were on the road, Harry had expected this to be an in and out kind of meeting. 

The last three months had been a complete whirlwind. Harry had signed on for the rest of Louis’ tour as his official tour photographer and he’d gained almost 4k followers on @hestylespictures , of which he was pretty proud. The response to his return to that account had been widely positive, even back when he first started posting there, and while he had enjoyed that recognition, he still kept @hcaptures for days when he needed something a little less … crazy. But his itch and his love for photography had finally returned in full, and he couldn’t have been happier. 

The bonus to all of that, of course, was having the most wonderfully supportive boyfriend. Louis had wasted no time, and after their first date and other activities that had conspired that night, Louis had asked, or rather demanded, that Harry join him on the rest of the tour, and also that he be his boyfriend. Harry had readily agreed to both, and so off they’d gone. Of course, Louis was not yet free to tell the world, but everyone on the crew and in the band knew. Liam and Oli teased them mercilessly, but they themselves were an embarrassing enough couple that the teasing went both ways, especially when Liam took a job as Harry’s assistant per Louis’ request so that Oli would stop moaning that he missed his boyfriend. It had all worked out for the best, really. 

Louis, true to his word, had gone to his new management just three days after he and Harry had made it official, and started the talks of him being able to come out. Harry had supported him the entire time, whether physically in the meetings or in spirit, and Louis had come out of that meeting rather positive, though with many more meetings about it scheduled for the future. 

And so they’d gone on tour. Harry still stayed away from the drinks and the sporadic drug use, but now he had Liam to keep him company, which was nice and quite the change from spending his evenings alone. Sometimes, Louis joined him, curling into his side to learn more about editing pictures … or at least, that was the excuse he used. Everyone knew that there was much more kissing than learning happening on their bus. 

And now, here they were. Harry had made Louis breakfast that morning and they’d set off for Louis’ final meeting with BMG. He’d sent him into the office with a kiss to the cheek and a promise that he would wait for him and, whatever happened, they would handle it together. 

The door opened suddenly and Harry tripped over his own feet in his haste to appear as if he hadn’t been treating a hole in the floor while he waited. A few people in suits filed out, not paying Harry any attention, and then Louis was there, standing in the doorway, looking at Harry with a pretty blank expression on his face. 

Harry stepped forward. “Well … how did it go?”

There were two seconds of ringing silence and then a beautiful smile graced Louis’ face, and he bolted for Harry, jumping on him and nearly knocking them both over in the process. 

“I’m cleared to come out,” Louis yelled in Harry’s ear, and suddenly the world seemed brighter. Harry put Louis down and held his face carefully in his hands, looking down at his boyfriend. 

“You … really? We can …”

“Tell the entire world, yes,” Louis said happily, and Harry laughed, pulling Louis in for a crushing kiss. He kept it brief but did not move out of Louis’ personal space. 

“I am so proud of you, Lou,” he whispered, and Louis’ cheeks flushed. 

“What for?”

“For fighting for yourself, for your right to be who you are. For us.”

Louis smacked his arm. “Don’t go getting sappy on me now, Styles. Now that I have the green light, I have to decide how. And when. And where.”

Harry grabbed Louis’ hand and dragged him towards the lift. “Later. Right now, I’m taking you to lunch. Lunch out in public with my boyfriend.”

Louis’ blinding smile was everything. 

________

It was later that night, as Harry cuddled back into Louis’ arms in their bed, that Louis decided how he wanted to come out. 

“You remember the last night of tour?” Louis asked suddenly, and Harry turned around so he was facing Louis, their bodies tangled together under the sheets. 

“Yeah, course.” As if Harry could forget - they’d gone back to the tour bus for one more night and made very good use of every available surface in there. Harry had almost felt bad for Kurt, even though they’d done their best to clean up their mess. 

“And remember when the crew collected all the pride flags and extra stuff that the fans had left at various shows and piled them on the stage?”

Harry nodded. “Yeah. I took, like, twenty pictures of that. Why?”

Louis sat up and grabbed his phone, pulling up a drafted Instagram post. “I … thought about it while you were in the shower earlier. What do you think?” 

Harry looked down at his phone and smiled fondly. Louis had chosen one of Harry’s favorite pictures of him, one that he himself had taken, and captioned it so perfectly that Harry didn’t think anyone could have come up with something better. 

“Lou, that’s perfect. I think it says everything.”

Louis nodded. “And I picked one for you too, if you … wanted to.”

Harry cocked his head and then heard his phone buzz on his nightstand. He rolled over and picked it up, opening the picture Louis had just texted him. 

“When … who …” Harry said as he opened it, his heart aching in the most beautiful way as he looked down at the picture. 

“I had Oli take it when you weren’t looking. A candid, if you will.”

“Ooohh, brushing up on your photography language, are we?” Harry teased, and Louis nudged him. 

“Yes, Harold, I am, now let me finish.”

Harry settled back against his pillows and listened. 

“I thought, only if you wanted to, that it could be your commemoration post for the end of the tour? If you want it to be, of course. You don’t even have to post it, it could just be for us, but …”

“And to think I’m the one who usually rambles,” Harry laughed, reaching out for Louis’ hand and tangling their fingers together. “Lou … it’s beautiful. Of course I want to post it.”

Louis sat back against his own pillows, smiling softly. “I love you, you know that?”

Harry blushed. Even though they’d started saying that a month into their relationship, it still made Harry feel like he was glowing from the inside out. 

“I love you, too,” Harry said back, leaning over to kiss Louis gently. “You want to post them together?”

Louis nodded, taking a deep breath. Harry thought he understood. After so long, Louis was finally going to be able to be completely himself. It had to be freeing. 

Harry drafted his post and looked over at Louis, who was waiting for him. They silently counted to three and hit post. 

Louis had posted a picture of himself standing among the pride flags, his arms raised to the ceiling and his eyes closed. His caption was simple:

@louist91: Freedom :)

Harry’s post was very similar, but a bit more obvious. His picture was of himself and Louis standing on the same stage. They were holding each other’s hands, their foreheads pressed together, both of them smiling. Oli had really focused on their faces, so the flags seemed to swirl with color around them. They were in their own world, and Harry had never felt more lucky. 

@hestylespictures: A picture says a thousand words. This one says so much more. Proud and privileged to love you xx

Louis had already liked Harry’s picture, grinning like an idiot. “You’re such a sap, you know that?”

Harry went to Louis’ and liked his post too, snickering. “You love me.”

“That I do.”